Paradox of Nihilism
by This One Fool
Summary: "Hirako-san, are you trying to molest me while I sleep?" His smile was creepy, but it sure beat being eaten by her brother. ShinjiOC, contains tiny spoilers for The Lost Substitute Shinigami arc. Hiatus.
1. Knight In Shining Armor

A/N: Shinji will make his appearance in this chapter (yes, I know that excites you, because it excites me too) and things will get a little more violent all around. Someone may get hurt…

Oh and before I forget, please let me know if you think the characters are a little OOC. I'm trying to work on mastering everyone in Bleach. ^_^

Paradox of Nihilism

Knight In Shining Armor

A year and a half. A year and a half after the war was over and they were still in Karakura. The Quincy and Ichigo's two other little friends couldn't fend off Hollows all by themselves. Hell, even when Ichigo was still here, they couldn't fend off all the Hollows of Karakura. The Visored became unofficial, silent protectors of the city and what remained of Ichigo's group. So far, there wasn't anything they couldn't easily handle by themselves, but the routine of their life here was beginning to bore him a bit.

Shinji almost – almost – wished for a little more excitement. Sadly, because he knew the sort of excitement that tended to follow him around, he held his tongue and his thoughts in check.

"Damn you, Hiyori." he muttered, rubbing his temples. The bitch's yelling was beginning to give him a gigantic headache. Not to mention the ringing in his ears and the sandal-shaped bruise on his forehead that always resulted from altercations with her. "If you an' Lisa wanted more shampoo, ya shoulda put it on the damn list insteada making me go back ta a store that I've already been ta taday."

He glanced up at the sky, where the sun was beginning to slant down toward the horizon, and continued his grumbling "Thirty blocks from the goddamn warehouse an' thirty fucking blocks b…"

Shinji's own complaints died off abruptly as his ears picked up something from several blocks to his left. It sounded like…howling. Like a wolf's howl. Except that there were no wolves in Karakura Town. And wolves didn't emit waves of fierce, hungry reiatsu.

Hissing with annoyance, Shinji threw the bag of shampoo into a nearby tree, where it hung forlornly from a branch halfway up by its white plastic handle. He'd come back for the damn thing later. He leapt onto roof next door and moved toward the sound, keenly listening for another howl – or, if worse came to worst, a scream.

The blond Visored saw the girl first.

She was actually managing to stay pretty far ahead of the Hollow and nothing in her expression indicated she was afraid – in fact, she seemed curiously unconcerned with her situation. Her familiar gray uniform skirt swung with the same rhythm as her sleek black hair, the skirt swaying off her thighs and the hair swaying off her shoulders. She had a small pair of…he hesitated to call them ponytails, because that implied a hairstyle that projected out from her skull. These were more like…ears. Small rabbit ears made of sleek hair that lay close to her head, only an inch thick. Her arms clutched a leather-bound journal to her chest.

When she came to the end of the street her head darted back and forth before she chose to take a right – just in time, too. The Hollow was just rounding the last corner she turned as she made her choice.

He'd never seen a Hollow with a more frightening expression on its mask. It was a wolf, with pointed ears and blood-red streaks running down its muzzle, and its razor-sharp teeth were arranged in a large, predatory grin.

But Hollows don't wear black Shinigami robes, even if they did have bone hands ending in massive claws.

She was being chased by a frenzied Visored.

Now he was torn between curiosity and duty. Which was a pity, because when both of those emotions were equally weighed in his mind, he always chose curiosity first. It was obviously his responsibility as a follow Visored to make sure the poor bastard in there didn't eat this girl, but he was kind of curious about how she was handling this.

Besides, it had been a while since he was this entertained.

He was also curious as to how this Visored came into existence. And why a fifteen-year-old girl had taken it upon herself to deal with it. Granted, she was a fifteen-year-old with a considerable amount of reiatsu, but still…

She continued running straight down the street, trying to flip through the heavy book in her arms as she did so, frowning in concentration. "Uh…let's see…" she muttered, flinging one hand behind her at the approaching Visored as she continued to run. Her voice was oddly low for someone her age and size. "Sprinkled on the bones of the beast! Sharp tower, red crystal, steel ring. Move and become the wind, stop and become the calm. The sound of warring spears fills the empty castle! Hado #63: Raikoho – Thunder Roar Sear!"

Even from this distance, he could feel that the Raikoho wasn't the strength it should be. It was smaller than the full spell intended. Even so, the spiral of light burst from her hand and struck the Visored squarely in the left shoulder, making him stagger backward as he was hit. She made a rather good shot. Ordinarily, that would not be so amazing. Except, judging from the look of mild surprise on her face, that was the first time she'd ever used it. Maybe the first time she'd ever used any Kido, if she needed a book to tell her the incantations.

Either that, or she was just extraordinarily terrible at it.

The smell of burnt, searing flesh filled the air.

Making another smart decision, rather than stopping and checking if her spell had worked, the girl simply kept running.

For nearly an hour, Shinji followed the pair of them as the girl led the enraged and out of control Visored in a zig-zag pattern through the town.

"You have to stop soon!" she called back to the wolf-faced man chasing her. "I'm getting tired."

_You wouldn't know it_, Shinji observed silently from his rooftop position. Despite this statement, she was still calmly choosing her direction and her breathing was quick, but even. Her gray-green eyes were curiously flat as she surveyed her situation, realizing that she had miscalculated and ran into a dead end. Even then, her expression didn't change.

He leaned forward, eager to see what kind of trick she would come up with this time.

The frenzied Visored swiped at her with one claw-fingered hand and she ducked under the blow, sliding past him to continue racing back the way she came.

If it weren't for the street lamps turning on, he may not have noticed.

Shinji watched a few strands of silky dark hair fall to the ground, accompanied by a single, tiny drop of blood. Eyes narrowed, he put a hand on the hilt of Sakanade.

_Game's over, girlie. Time ta let the big boys play._

Leaping back down into the street, he flash-stepped behind the unknown Visored fast enough to see it back-slap the teenage girl into a cement wall. Luckily, she hit it with her back instead of her head. She scrambled to get up and retrieve her book of Kido spells, only to look up and see Shinji standing in front of her, zanpakuto drawn and ready.

Struggling to feet, she hoarsely called out to him. "Don't kill him. Please." The strangely toneless quality to her voice made it hard for him to realize that she was serious. But she wrapped her hand, unprotected, around Sakanade's naked blade. "I beg you, Shinigami-san. Don't kill him."

Apparently this kid had never seen a Shinigami – a _real_ Shinigami – before, because he sure as hell didn't look like one. "What makes ya think I'm a Shinigami?" he asked, smiling crookedly.

She frowned. "Your zanpakuto…"

"Alright." He let her off on that point, deciding not to confuse her further with things like Visoreds, Arrancar, or Espada. "Why shouldn't I kill him?"

"Because he's my brother."


	2. The Missing Zanpakuto

Paradox of Nihilism

The Missing Zanpakuto

"_Because he's my brother."_

You could've slapped him with a brick after that. Luckily, she didn't, and he had a moment to recover. Shinji managed to string a sentence together and replied "Lucky fer ya, I don't intend ta kill yer brother. Not unless he becomes a full Hollow – an' I'm gonna do everythin' I can ta stop that." He used the hand not holding his zanpakuto to push her back behind him. "Stay back, I'm gonna piss him off, but he'd prefer goin' after you, so don't attract attention ta yerself."

She nodded and darted behind a tree to crouch, watching him with her flat eyes.

Shinji didn't know how or why, but for some reason, her brother didn't seem to have his zanpakuto anymore. That was normally an indication of complete Hollowfication, except that he was still wearing his shihakusho and there was no hole anywhere on his body. So for now, he was still a Visored.

As the wolf-Visored realized he would be fighting Shinji rather than the girl, he snarled and gave another haunting howl of challenge.

"Here, doggie." Shinji taunted with a wide grin. "I'm gonna push this here zanpakuto right between yer eyes – yer gonna be a dead doggie soon."

After being around people with Hollows inside them for soon long, you got the feel for the personality of individual Hollows. This one was very basic. Very brutal. It roared and howled, trying to swipe and smash him with huge sweeps of its claws. It was a very unsophisticated style of fighting – but that was probably what saved his sister's life.

He spent a good ten minutes wearing the man down before he could pin him from behind. The other Visored thrashed wildly, but he stayed on the man's back, feet firmly planted on his shoulders. "Hey, what's yer brother's name?" he called to the trees. Knowing someone's name sometimes helped bring them back from the Hollow's insanity.

"Shokanmaru. But everyone calls him Shoka." Her voice was much nearer than it should be. He glanced behind him and realized she had come out from her hiding place and was standing on a few feet from them. Shoka growled, but she held her ground. "What are you going to do to him?"

"I'm gonna beat the sanity back inta him." he growled, using Sakanade's hilt to crack the wolf-mask. As the human face was slowly revealed piece by piece, Shinji finally determined that it was safe enough to get off the man now.

Shokanmaru was a young man of about twenty, with softer features than his little sister and a mop of shaggy brown hair atop his head. There was really no family resemblance between the two of them – except he had the same flat gray-green eyes. His breathing was shallow and ragged. The Hollow could ignore the damage his sister did to his shoulder, but it caused him considerable pain. Squinting, Shoka moaned in pain. "Misao? Misao?" he whispered, trying to see past the light of the street lamps. He began to panic when 'Misao' didn't answer. "Where…where is she? She…she is alive, isn't she? Misao!"

His sister knelt beside his head. Shinji worked on ignoring the way that pulled her skirt up her thighs to a length that was considered indecent by everyone but…ah, working girls. "I'm here, Shoka-nii." she muttered. She held his hand without noticing.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked quietly, trying to breathe through the burning pain in his shoulder.

"No." She could lie perfectly with that monotone voice and her dark hair hiding the scratch below her earlobe. "I'm getting really good at this, ne, Shoka-nii?"

Her brother squeezed her hand with what little strength he had. He was clearly trying to fight passing out. "I wish you didn't have to." He winced as he coughed and stared at Shinji through his blurry vision. "Who…are you? _What_ are you?"

That made Shinji cackle. "Hirako Shinji. I'm what ya are, pardner." To demonstrate, he twirled Sakanade in one hand and summoned the pharaoh's mask over his face with the other. "Do ya get it?"

Shoka inhaled sharply. "What?" The man tried to push himself up, but Misao wouldn't let him. "What…is that?"

"We're called the 'Visored', Shoka. Shinigami who have the powers of a Hollow. Yer a Visored. An' I'm here ta make ya one of us."

Shoka closed his eyes. "What's the catch?" he asked softly.

"Catch?" Shinji smacked his lips and thought about that. "Yeah, I guess there is kinda a catch…The catch is, ya have to learn ta control yer Hollow – or we kill ya."

Without hesitation, the big brother said "Fine."

_That was much easier than convincing Ichigo._ Shinji watched Misao help Shoka stand upright, leaning on her so heavily that her knees buckled. He sighed and held him up on the other side so the girl didn't face-plant into the ground when she tried to step forward. _Then again, Ichigo wasn't actively afraid of mauling and killing one of his sisters. He was too worried about other things to consider that. _"C'mon. We're only a few minutes away from gettin' help."

Misao gave him a funny look, but let him lead her to the warehouse as they carried her brother. She looked as dubious as Shoka when Shinji gestured to the run-down building. "It's through here. Just wait a sec' – I'll get Hachi."

By the time he returned with his rotund partner, Misao was shaking with the effort of holding her brother and Shoka was clearly trying to fight passing out. "Oh, my!" the polite man exclaimed. "Let me take him, Miss. He's much too heavy for you."

"I'm Shinji. This here is Ushoda Hachigen." Shinji told her disinterestedly. "Call him Hachi."

"Shiori Misao." Misao said, giving a small curtsy to Hachi as he relieved her of her burden. "And this is my brother, Shiori Shokanmaru. Call him Shoka."

Hachi beamed as he began setting up the healing barrier for Shoka. "Very pleased to meet you, Miss Shiori."

"Misao, please." the girl muttered. "You're the one helping me…"

She and Shinji watch Hachi as he began the tedious process of healing Shoka, a process that could be slow or quick, depending on how deep the damage went. So far, it was looking more like slow. Raikoho was a moderately high level of spell. "That was a pretty good Raikoho." Shinji said softly, turning his blond head toward the dark-haired girl next to him. "Was that yer first time doin' a Kido spell?"

Misao stared down at her hands. _Hands that had created lightning_, she thought. _And lips that spoke the spells of demons_. "Yes." she said evenly. "I didn't know how to get my hands on a zanpakuto so my only defense was Kido spells. It took me nearly a year just to find that book. This was the first time I got to use anything from it, though."

"Ya…can't…get a…zanpakuto?" Shinji asked her in strangled voice, trying desperately to swallow the laughter coming up the back of his throat like comedy vomit. The idea was too ludicrous to be serious. As long as the girl possessed Shinigami power (which she apparently did), she had a zanpakuto.

"I've _tried_." she said honestly, with as much earnest sincerity as her voice could produce. "I've spent hours trying to get one, but…Shoka's just kind of…appeared. He couldn't say how or why. It was just…there."

Shinji smirked. "Let me guess, it was just 'there' at the same time the shihakusho was just 'there'."

"Yes…" she said slowly.

"Have ya ever worn the shihakusho?"

"No," she said, looking as confused as her calm features could allow. "I can't. I'm not a Shinigami."

"No, yer a Shinigami, alright," he assured her. "Ya just haven't become a spirit yet. We'll get ta that later. What exactly _happened_ ta Shoka's zanpakuto?" They were going to need it for his training. Or rather, _he _was going to need it.

"He gave it to me." she replied. "So I got rid of it."

Shinji choked. "Ya…got…_rid_…of…it?"

She nodded. "After the…thing…killed his first Hollow, Shoka-nii decided the zanpakuto was too dangerous for him to keep. So he gave it to me and told me to get rid of it."

That explained why the wolf-Hollow's fighting style was so primitive. It never had a weapon to use. He swallowed, trying to wrap his head around the concept of willingly throwing away one's own zanpakuto. "What didja…_do_ with it?"

"Well, Tou-san made it sound like a zanpakuto was kind of important, so I put it in a box and buried it in the backyard."

He breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment, he thought she was going to say she threw it away or dumped it in the river or something equally horrific and impossible to get back. "We're gonna hafta get that back before yer brother starts trainin'. What's its name?"

"Huh?" Misao blinked.

"The name. What's Shoka's zanpakuto called?"

She stared at him as if he had two heads. "A name is a bit of overkill, don't you think? He only had it for an hour."

Face, meet palm. Shinji growled in frustration. "Lemme get this straight. Yer brother is a Visored, but he don't know the name of his own fucking sword, taday was the first time ya've ever used a Kido, but ya managed ta do Hado #63, and ya have Shinigami powers, but have never used 'em. Do I have all that covered?"

"Yes." she deadpanned.

He sighed. "C'mon then. Yer gonna show me where ya hid yer brother's sword."


	3. She Doesn't Like To Be Alone

Paradox of Nihilism

She Doesn't Like To Be Alone

Shinji followed Misao through Karakura, picking up the wayward bag of shampoo as they went back to the Shiori house. It was small, with only one story and no attic or basement.

Sighing, Misao picked up the messenger bag thrown carelessly into the bushes beside the front door. She heaved another soft sigh as she realized that the front door was wide open and her keys were on the doormat. "Good thing we don't own a television." she muttered, bending to pick her house keys up. Her cheeks flushed at the flutter of arousal that she received from Shinji as her skirt hiked up, but she decided to ignore it. 'Boys will be boys' and all that.

"Left in a hurry, huh?" Shinji remarked quietly, staring at the haphazard way the book bag had been tossed into the bushes.

She put the bag inside the foyer and grabbed the blue sweater on the hook by the entrance. She locked the door as she met him back outside and slipped the keys into the sweater's pocket. "Yeah. I was getting a head start."

He followed her to the back, where she used the keys again to unlock the tiny brown shed. She fumbled around for a minute before she found the light-string and pulled. There was a pair of bikes, a broom, three rakes, two shovels, and a spare tire for a car they didn't own. Misao handed him a shovel and turned off the light again. "I remember where it is, but it might take a while to dig it up."

Starting at the small, bent sakura tree, Misao counted three shovel lengths from the trunk toward the house. Then they began to dig. The pair of them had to dig until it was nearly midnight before the box could be lifted from the ground. It was quite large.

Shinji raised an eyebrow at the length of the unreleased zanpakuto. "This is a two-handed weapon even fer me. No wonder ya didn't try ta use this thing."

She nodded. "When I was ten I could barely lift it. It's amazing that I managed to bury it."

"You were ten? This has been buried here for five years?"

She nodded. He groaned.

The spirit of Shoka's zanpakuto was going to be pissed. Its master not only rejected it, he gave it to his ten-year-old sister to dispose of or destroy as she saw fit. Luckily, Misao had sense enough not to break it or throw it in the trash, but still. Buried, in a box, for the last five years. And Shoka hadn't even bothered to find out the blade's name! He would be lucky if Sakanade didn't try to kill him if he did something like that.

He held out his hand. "Give it 'ere." He lifted Sakanade onto his back and slipped Shoka's unknown sword into his belt loop. "It's still too large fer ya ta carry around, especially after the day ya've had."

Sakanade was temperamental but he and Shinji had been together a looooong time. Long enough that Sakanade probably wouldn't get jealous if another sword took his spot for an hour.

Misao's zanpakuto, however, might become even more reluctant to cooperate if she carried another person's sword around like it was her own. Some zanpakuto were finicky like that. Kubikiri Orochi was like that. Thankfully for him, Sakanade was past that kind of childish sulking and envy.

When they got back to the warehouse, Shoka was more or less better and waiting for them to return. He smiled at his sister until he realized was Shinji was holding. He eyed his zanpakuto wearily. "What did you bring that back here for?"

Shinji scowled. "First, ya gonna stop callin' it 'that'. This is your zanpakuto. The source of yer power. Show it a teensy weensy bit more respect. Second, this zanpakuto is gonna be an essential part of controllin' yer Hollow. Yer outta control because yer power is bein' drawn from the Hollow insteada yer zanpakuto." He held the blade out to him.

Shoka hesitated and then closed his hand around the sheath.

Misao covered a yawn, which Shoka noticed. "You need to sleep." he told her sternly. To Shinji, he said "Can she stay here with me while I do this? She hates to be alone."

"Um, I can just ask Yuzu and Karin…" Misao said, actually looking a little uncomfortable.

Shoka's face softened. "You hate going to the Kurosakis, Misao."

She stared at the ground, digging the toe of her sneaker into the warehouse's cement floor. "I don't _hate_ it." she mumbled, a flush beginning to prick her pale cheeks.

"You do hate it." Shoka said knowingly. "You told me Ichigo-san makes you want to claw your brains out of your skull every time he enters the area. You can't sleep there, Misao."

Shinji stared at her as she groaned and covered her ears. She knew Ichigo? "Stop! Stop saying things, Shoka!" she hissed. "He _knows_ things…"

"I want him to know things. If he can help me, then maybe he can help you." her brother coaxed.

The normally impassive Misao actually curled her lip into a snarl. "You know how much I hate being alone, Shoka-nii. Your idea of them 'helping' me will mean I'll be alone with the silence _for the rest of my life_! Even if I don't like being this way, I'm _used_ to being this way."

Shinji raised his hand as though he was in the middle of a classroom. "Uh, hello, sensei? Can ya translate that inta Japanese fer me? Because I think ya were speaking gibberish there."

"She can experience the emotions of others." Shoka said clearly. "It's always been this way."

Shinji stared at her. "How can ya stand goin' out inta everyday life?"

"I can only process and synthesize so many emotional reactions at once." she clarified.

"The real problem," Shoka interrupted softly "Is that you can't distinguish someone else's feelings from your own. Do you know what it's like to be annoyed with yourself through a third party, Hirako-san?"

Misao held her head. "Stop, you're making him confused! And…and someone is…angry. No, no – FURIOUS."

Shoka rubbed his temples. "That's _him_."

Shinji chuckled dryly. "So, in other words, Shoka has a creature of pure evil inside his head and Misao has the entire population inside hers."

"If you're going to be crude." Misao agreed dully. She had apparently regained her impassive façade and her monotone voice was even and quiet. Back to normal – or at least, what seemed to be normal for Misao.

"Well, yer gonna be happy ta hear that I haven't got the slightest idea about how ta help ya there. But I can help ya become a Shinigami." He rubbed his hand together eagerly and grinned widely. This might actually be _fun_! "Let's get some sleep. Yer gonna have a busy mornin'."


	4. Jinzen

Paradox of Nihilism

Jinzen

Shinji hadn't been exaggerating – it was going to be a busy Saturday.

It started with him taking a little early field trip to Urahara Shoten. The man himself was sitting on his porch, fanning himself lazily in the sunshine. "Ah, Hirako-san," Kisuke drawled slyly. "What a surprise to see you here! What can I do for you this fine Saturday, my old friend?"

With rare seriousness, Shinji said "Were you aware of the presence of another Visored and another half-Shinigami hybrid in Karakura?"

"Other than the children of Isshin Kurosaki, you mean?" Urahara scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Old Koga Fuyumi had a little girl with a human. But that was…let's see…maybe, forty years ago now, Shinji. They've been dead over ten years."

"What about their daughter?"

"I'm pretty sure her name was Kazuyo or Kazuko. She moved away after high school. Haven't seen her since." Kisuke recalled. "She was certainly a hybrid, but most definitely not a Visored. The Fuyumis and the Kurosakis were the only families boasting Shinigami blood around here, Shinji."

"So you've never heard of the Shiori family?" Shinji asked skeptically.

"Nope," the man said cheerfully. "Doesn't ring a bell. I hear that there's this wonderful tool called 'Google' that might help you, though."

"Doubt it," the blond Visored muttered. "I need…we'll start with one bottle of Soul Candy and go from there. I may need more later."

Kisuke grinned. "You're in luck. I have some on hand right here that Miss Kuchiki ordered and never came back for. I hope you like Chappy."

He rolled his eyes. "Mashiro will be thrilled."

Misao was woken up by someone jumping up and down on the mattress. A high, girly voice squealed "Wake-up, wake-up, wake-up, sleepyhead!"

She groaned at the amount of unfiltered joy threading through her like a sugar rush – swiftly and painfully followed by a sharp stab of unfiltered annoyance. "Mashiro, stop jumping on the damn bed!" a deep male voice growled.

Deep…male…voice…Misao jerked upward, swearing as she hit her head hard on the top bunk that was not supposed to be there. "Shit!" Moaning in pain, she sank back into the pillows, recalling only now that Shinji had put her and Shoka together in a spare bunk bed last night.

"Kensei, you're such a doo-doo head!" The squeaky voice pouted. "You're no fun at all!"

The mattress sprang upward as 'doo-doo head' Kensei dragged Mashiro from the room by force. "You have no manners!" he snarled at the girl. "You even made her hit her head!"

"No, you did!" Mashiro cried (she was actually right), kicking him in the shin.

Misao put a hand to her heart, trying to stop the wild torrent Mashiro and Kensei caused that was making her heart jump.

"Ignore them." a calmer female voice said from the bunk above her. "They're always this horrible."

Misao ducked her head to look up at the apparent occupant of the top bunk. A young woman with braided dark hair and glasses sat reading a manga. "You must be Misao. I'm Lisa – Yasomaru Lisa. That was Kuna Mashiro and Muguruma Kensei."

The bed next to her was cold. "Where's Shoka?"

Lisa hopped from down from the upper bunk, smoothing the skirt of her sailor fuku outfit. "He woke up an hour ago. He said to let you sleep, but Rose wants everyone up for breakfast. Mashiro volunteered to wake you up." She cocked her head. "Hey, you're kind of young to be married. Was it arranged or what?"

She choked on air, actually falling out of bed mid-exit she was so surprised. "What?"

"He's kind of cute, though."

She colored to a bright, radiant red as she realized Lisa was actually referring to Shoka. "He's not my husband!" Misao said, trying to calm her heart again. These people trying to kill her! Between their own emotional fluctuations and the ones they caused her to have, she was going to have a heart attack. "He's my big brother!"

Speak of the devil – Shoka popped his head in the room at that moment. "Oh! Good, you are awake – I wasn't sure. How's your head?"

"Sore." _Just like my back._ Hollow Shoka could smack really hard.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?" he asked, utterly sincere. He wasn't even teasing but that was what made her flush. The force of Shoka's love was strong and endless and she could feed off of it the way most people consumed caffeine or sugar.

"I'm not ten." she muttered, still flushing a little. But she still let him hold her hand like she was. "Let's eat."

"Eat this." Shinji handed them each a piece of Soul Candy. "It'll make ya grow up big and strong and invisible." They both looked at looked at him dubiously. "Just eat it!"

They shrugged and popped the pills in their mouths. Shoka's eyes widened. "Misao…you…"

"I think I feel kind of…" She stared down at herself and noticed the shihakusho. "Oh my god! What did you do to me?"

Shinji grinned lecherously. "I've just made ya a woman, Misao."

Shoka threw him a glare as he picked up Misao's body. "Is she dead?" he demanded.

"No more than you are." Shinji gestured to Shoka's own body, which was now skipping merrily around the room. Misao's jerked and bolted out of his arms to begin skipping in tandem with Shoka's body. They bounced around, chirping 'pyon! pyon!' "See? Yer bodies are perfectly safe."

"I have a zanpakuto." Misao whispered, drawing the katana from the sheath at her side.

"I said ya would, didn't I?" Shinji drawled. "I wouldn't lie ta ya, darlin'."

"I don't know any zanjutsu." she admitted quietly.

"I wouldn't worry about that yet," the man called Rose interrupted. "Every person's style of fighting is different. Hachi wants to know if he needs to start a barrier today, Shinji."

"Nah. We'll work on getting' Misao inta jinzen taday. By tamorrow she should be able ta go inta shikai."

"Shikai…shikai…" Misao repeated slowly. "I know how to do that already."

"Let's see it, then." Shinji said in deep amusement.

Misao stared down at the katana in her hands, scowling fiercely with concentration. "Purge the heavens, Amaterasu!"

Nothing happened.

Shinji and Rose laughed uproariously.

Shoka looked sympathetic.

"I don't get it," she said, shaking her head. "That's how Tou-san made his turn gold. He said that was shikai."

"Well now, that's why it didn't work." Shinji explained. "Yer papa's sword was called Amaterasu and that was how he called her out. Yer zanpakuto isn't named Amaterasu."

"You have to ask permission." Rose told her. "You don't just know. You have to drop a little of your dignity to ask. And until you can hear them, they have to suffer being nameless to you."

"Alright Shoka. Yer just here ta get used ta bein' a spirit without becomin' a deranged maniac. Misao, I want ya ta sit down here with yer zanpakuto across yer lap."

She obeyed readily.

"Focus on nothin' but yer breathin'. Relax every muscle in yer body. Let yerself drift off…"


	5. The Garden of Misao

Paradox of Nihilism

The Garden of Misao

Misao opened her eyes slowly, taking in the scent of flowers. That was funny…wasn't she just in a warehouse? And she felt Shoka, Shinji, and Rose just a moment ago. She sat up and looked around her. What a strange place!

She was in the middle of a tiny gazebo made of white wooden slats. She stared through the slats into the pond beyond the shelter and swallowed nervously as she realized that the gazebo was on a floating island, completely surrounded by water. How was she going to get out of here?

She went to one of the openings and stared into the pond surrounding her.

It was beautiful, really. Lush trees hung branches into the deep, clear water and the air was filled with the perfume of the lotuses that dotted the pond. The garden-pond seemed to stretch out infinitely, the only landmarks being more tiny white temples like this one.

"You can stand on the water, you know." a clear feminine voice said in quiet amusement. "You won't sink down."

Misao whirled around, peering through the opposite doorway of the temple. And gasped.

She had never met this woman before. But she was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Her skin was a flawless ivory, her silky hair pale petal pink, and her eyes smoky gray. And on her pink lips was an amused smirk. From her golden filigree throne, she beckoned by crooking one diamond-tipped fingernail. "Come closer, Misao. Don't be afraid. Leave your fear – things like fear are of no use to women like us."

She crossed her bare legs and flicked her long white sleeve away from her hand as she propped her chin in her palm. Her dress was white and only went to mid-thigh. It had a pattern of pale, petal-pink lotuses. The neck was opened in a slight 'v' and left her shoulders bare. The sleeves of it trailed to her knuckles. Her impassive eyes watched Misao take a hesitant step onto the clear water; where to her surprise, she didn't sink down. She took another step and the water still held her up.

As Misao stepped closer, she realized that her pink hair, arranged in a pair of long ponytails on either side of her head, had strings of seed pearls woven through the strands. Another rope of seed pearls was wrapped around her throat. A glittering crown of gold and silver rested on the top her shining head. Misao's eyes narrowed and she said cautiously "How do you know my name?"

Strangely, she couldn't sense any emotion from this woman. She laughed, a soft ringing sound with a metallic edge to it, like the chime of a bell. "If only you knew how stupid that question is, my Misao. Although, I must say, you came here faster than I expected. Faster than I dared hope, actually. That gratifies me."

She blinked. "When did you expect me?"

"When your mama and papa were alive I assumed I would have to wait until they decided to teach you. After they died, I resigned myself to wait until you entered Soul Society."

Putting one and two together and coming up with five, Misao stared up at her. "Are you…my zanpakuto?"

The woman smiled wryly. "Yes and no. I'm the spirit of your zanpakuto. I've tried to call you many times. My name is *********."

"What?" It was as though her ears were stuffed with cotton. The words blurred and scratched against her comprehension.

The regal woman stopped smiling. "That saddens me. You can have no idea how much that saddens me, my Misao."

"I'm sorry." she replied sincerely.

She sighed and brought one of those diamond-tipped hands to Misao's cheek. Misao shivered as her long nails brushed against her skin. She leaned toward Misao, her presence like a pale radiance that surrounded her. That pale pink mouth was inches from her face. The noble woman kissed her forehead. "I'm in your heart, my Misao." she whispered. "You must listen to it to hear me."

Misao stared back into her charcoal colored eyes and her own eyes widened.

"I know your name."

"It's been over eight hours now! How long is this supposed to take?" Shoka demanded of Shinji.

The blond man shrugged. "That depends."

"On what?" he asked in exasperation.

"On how pissed off her zanpakuto is." Hiyori grunted irately.

Shinji bent down to tilt Misao's face up to the lights. Her face was peaceful but every so often, she would clench and unclench her fists in the fabric of her robes. "Not pissed off." he remarked softly. "Difficult. Although, which one of 'em is bein' difficult is hard ta say."

"This is nerve racking." Shoka muttered.

Hiyori sneered. "Just wait until you have to do it. Your zanpakuto will have been angered and crazed by the Hollow – not to mention being locked in a trunk and buried for five years. You're gonna be lucky if it doesn't beat you to a pulp."

They were coming up on hour twelve when Misao finally opened her eyes.

She was actually smiling – no, not smiling. Grinning. Something Shinji was unsure that she could accomplish before. It was not an unattractive look on her. Now if only she would do it more often.

She sat up, stiffly because of her sore back and the long period of sitting down, and held her katana securely in her right hand.

She smiled down at the sword in her hand.

"Sigh, Shojohime."


	6. Shojohime

Paradox of Nihilism

Shojohime

The katana's blade became an inch or two shorter and turned pure white. The tsuba and hilt glittered silver and gold with a spiraling lotus pattern that bore a distinct resemblance to Shojohime's crown.

The Visoreds were all laughing – loudly. Hiyori was close to passing out she was laughing so hard. _"Virgin princess?" _the blond girl howled. "Your zanpakuto's name is _virgin princess_? Kid, you have to be good at zanjutsu – you'll never be respected as a Shinigami otherwise."

Shinji chuckled and scratched the back of his neck, absentmindedly running his tongue piercing over his teeth. It was probably weird that he found the whole 'virgin princess' thing to be both a challenge and a turn on. Inside the back of his thoughts, Sakanade stirred. _"Yer totally justified, Shinji. Shojohime is a complete hottie. Do us both a favor and nail the girl!"_

Misao felt a rush of lust travel up her spine and glanced around, trying to ascertain who it was from. If it was Shoka…she didn't want to know… She caught Shinji's eye: he grinned that wide, scary smile and winked at her. She colored slightly as that same shot of arousal began to make her lower belly glow in a not entirely unpleasant way. Misao carefully constructed a frown and aimed it at him.

Shinji grinned wider and licked his lips, flashing his piercing at her with the movement of his tongue.

She looked away, turning her back to him. He had to have known his emotion was going to affect her. Even now her heart was racing frantically. _Idiot,_ she scolded herself, pinching herself in the thigh to make the absurd feeling go away. _Don't get flustered by the fantasies of perverts._

Clearing her throat, Misao said "She's not just a decoration, you know. Shojohime is powerful."

"Prove it." Shinji grinned at her crookedly. "Fight me."

She looked reluctant.

"Oh, c'mon now, don' make that face." he coaxed. "I'll even fight ya without my shikai, I promise."

Shoka nudged her. "That sounds like a fair fight, right?"

Both Love and Rose shook their heads.

Hiyori snorted. "You wish. Shinji would have to be deaf and blind. Even then, the odds are still in his favor. He's a dickhead, but he's a dickhead who used to be the taicho of the 5th Division."

Misao looked at Shoka, who was suddenly gripping her arm very hard. "What does that mean?"

Her brother's grip was actually starting to hurt. "I'll explain it to you later." Shoka said lowly. "Just do your best. You won't be able to beat this guy, but try your hardest anyway."

Shinji grinned at him. "Nervous, Shoka? I won't give her any scars or hurt her face. Visored's honor."

Misao gripped Shojohime's hilt, her fingers curved into claws with anger. She wanted to swear at him for that. _Don't talk about me as if I'm a possession._

"Smile."

Shinji jerked in surprise at the sound of her voice, but had to immediately dodge the crescent of pale pink energy aimed straight at his head. In her monotonous voice, Misao responded "I suggest you concentrate on your own face rather than worrying about mine."

She felt his excitement thrash around her inside her chest. That grin came back and Shinji's eyes danced. "I think yer a bit of a wildcat under all that cool, darlin'." he drawled, letting her see how his eyes lingered on her a _bit_ too long. He lowered his voice to a whisper only she would hear. "I'd like ta make ya _hot_."

Her flat, pale eyes looked back at him blankly. Tonelessly, she replied "Aren't you a little old for me, Hirako-san? Smile."

Shojohime flashed as she sliced the white blade through the air, forming the soft pink crescent of energy off the end of the blade. He stepped out of the attack's path, watching it leave a clean slice in the warehouse's metal siding – and tearing through the building behind it, too. Luckily, it wasn't a very large attack – just extremely sharp and painful-looking. "That woulda hurt, I think." he commented, aiming to slice her arm off. "I'm not exactly atta point where age counts, y'know? Bein' _dead_ an' all."

Her katana blocked Sakanade, preventing him from taking her left arm off at the shoulder. He used his strength to bend the block back until the tip nearly touched her cheek. She had to shove hard to push him away. _"Smile."_

This time, he didn't dodge fast enough and a deep but small cut opened in his side. It began to bleed furiously.

She blinked at him. "First blood."

She expected to feel his anger but instead, he felt kind of…thrilled. Or maybe she did. Even now, she felt the adrenaline of the moment focusing her senses, sharpening her vision. This time, she didn't wait for him to come at her; she charged him, aiming to open that cut she gave him.

He blocked, flinging her zanpakuto back and leaving an opening for him to take. She spoke without thinking. "Protect your virtue!"

Sakanade met the hard surface of…a flower? A shell now enclosed Misao and it looked precisely like the petals of a lotus flower.

Shinji grinned. Lotus flowers were open at the top.

But she was waiting for him, like a little bee in that flower. "Smile!"

"Woah." he huffed, darting away from Shojohime's cutting attack just fast enough to stop his legs from being chopped off at the knees.

The lotus drifted off into particles, leaving her there, eyes now carrying the faintest of sparkles.

Shinji decided that he liked that sparkle.

"Smile!"

However, he was beginning to _hate_ that word.

He ducked under the assault and swept under her. She did manage to keep her internal organs, but didn't manage to stop him from throwing her into a wall. "Uh!" She gasped as she felt the air being pushed from her lungs at the force of the impact. She landed on her back, wincing at the unhealed bruises still there from Shoka throwing her into cement becoming even more painful. "Ouch."

Shinji watched the blood drain from her face as she suddenly sagged against him, beautiful sexual tension totally ruined. "Alright, that's enough. Hachi," he called. "She needs help."

"That answers the question 'do injuries on my body effect my spirit?'." Shoka sighed, lifting his sister's body so that she could merge with it without bending down.

Misao lifted the back of her shirt, ignoring Shinji's sudden over-attention. "How bad is it, Shoka-nii?"

"Bad." Shoka said, wincing. Her back was marred with huge, fantastically colored bruises. "Did I do this?"

"No, _he_ did this." Shinji had the feeling this wasn't the first time they had a conversation like this one, judging from the look of pained guilt on Shoka's face.

"If you lie down here, Misao-san," Hachi gestured helpfully. "I can heal any injuries you have incurred."

With her brother's help, she obeyed, slowly and painfully laying down on the cold concrete with her shirt lifted in the back to expose her huge bruises. Shinji sat next to her as the others bid their various goodnights. Misao waved her brother away, because although she knew he loved her, his hovering was becoming irritating. "It's fine!"

As Hachi began setting up the healing barrier around them, Shinji untucked his torn dress shirt and unbuttoned the lower half, slipping the fabric aside to reveal the deep cut she'd given him on his side.

When she spotted the first glimpse of naked flesh, Misao closed her eyes. She knew what he was trying to do and she knew that it wasn't going to work. Unfortunately for this persistent fetcher, she was fairly certain she wasn't programmed for…that.

Although she would never admit it to anyone, Misao had a very deep, very possible fear. She was afraid that she was actually incapable of most emotions. She could synthesize the whole plethora of other people's emotions, but her own were rather limited. It was only the big ones that got through – fear, anger, sometimes joy, shock, grief, love. At least, familial love. She'd loved her parents. She loved Shoka.

But once she was by herself, everything just went away. It was all emptiness. It was like spending your whole life with music in the background and then suddenly turning it off one day. The silence she felt – the emptiness – sometimes made her feel physically ill. As a child, if she were left alone for more than ten minutes, her guardian would come back to find her in hysterical tears. Shoka just learned to take her with him wherever he went as a matter of course.

Misao twitched as she felt someone's fingertips gently skimming her spine. Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned, but she didn't bother opening her eyes. "What are you doing?"

Shinji chuckled and she had to force her lips to stay still to keep his amusement from affecting her. She noticed that his emotions were rather…potent. "I'm touchin' ya. Can't ya tell? Well, an' makin' sure ya aren't fallin' asleep on me."

"You're a pervert." she said matter-of-factly.

"Tsk, tsk, darlin'. Appreciatin' the female form is not perversion. It's the ability to appreciate beauty. It's a form of art."

_Is this guy for real?_ She raised her eyebrows. _He makes himself sound so plausible. But…_ "I don't buy it. Sorry."

"That hurts, Misao-chan." Her bra was lace. Bright pink and orange lace. It was…unexpectedly cute. This girl sometimes reminded him of a grown businesswoman and sometimes a little girl. He placed his hand underneath the strap, just between her shoulder blades, so she could feel the heat of his hand seeping into her skin. She tensed slightly, but he didn't move his hand any more than that.

He didn't actually intend to _do_ anything to her – he was just playing with her. Besides, she had his curiosity up. What manner of person lurked underneath those flat eyes and that bored voice?

If Misao had learned one thing with the way she was required to live her life, it was that you couldn't change the way a person feels. You can change their opinions, their ideas, their beliefs – and that may cause their emotions to change. But you could not change the emotions themselves. That said, she already knew there was nothing she could do to destroy the arousal Shinji apparently felt whenever she was around.

Of course, that didn't mean she was going to encourage him. Even if the intensity of his lust made her skin burn in a strangely pleasant way.

She was just going to have to destroy the idea or belief behind it.

His fingertips pressed firmly into her flesh and rubbed all the way down her back until they met the band of her skirt. She tensed as the desire began to reach from her stomach to her breasts. She'd felt second-hand arousal before, but to her knowledge, it had never actually been directed at herself.

Shinji leaned over. "Your bruises are gone." he whispered in the shell of her ear, his breath stirring her dark hair.

_Incredible, _she thought wildly, _it getting even worse. This man is a fiend!_ It didn't just burn along her skin – it felt like it was going to melt her insides. She kept her eyes closed, disciplining herself against any action. _Do not feed into his delusion. You do not have anything he wants._

Shinji held back a hiss as her lips parted slowly. She seemed almost half asleep. Until she pointedly dislodged his hand and pulled the back of her shirt down again. She pushed herself from the floor and walked away. "Goodnight, Hirako-san."

He may have been the one with the boner, but nothing could hide the blush on her cheeks as she left.


	7. Kurosaki Hates You

Paradox of Nihilism

Kurosaki Hates You

On Sunday, she joined Love for a little spar. It lasted three hours before the man finally took pity on her and soundly kicked her butt for good. Shinji and Hiyori – after much debate with lots of screaming and shoe-throwing – decided that Shoka's training could wait until the next weekend. As long as he avoided anger, stress, or hate as much as possible, he would be fine for another five days. Misao was inclined to agree – Shoka was a naturally upbeat and fun person. Five days wouldn't hurt. So, slightly sore and much more relieved, she returned to school on Monday.

Monday went by in a wonderfully normal, mundane sort of way.

It was bliss.

Tuesday was slightly dampened by the pop quiz in algebra and a vocabulary quiz in Japanese, but she would take what she could get.

On Wednesday, her peace was all shot to hell.

"Class, this is your new peer – Hirako Shinji-kun." Amizu-sensei said cheerfully. "Say hello, Hirako-kun."

"Hey," Shinji grinned at Misao in the back row, who stared back at him blankly.

The desks were arranged five down and five across. All the seats in the classroom were full except three. In the back row, Misao sat in the right corner near the windows and in the opposite corner was a sleeping boy in a black hoodie. "Please take whichever seat you like, Hirako-kun." Amizu-sensei said cordially, gesturing to these three seats. She pointed to the poker-faced Misao. "Shiori-kun takes good notes, she can give you anything you need for your classes."

Grinning like the Cheshire cat, Shinji sat right next to Misao, who stared fixedly at the blackboard as she handed over her notes for all their classes. "What are you doing here?" she asked softly.

He flipped disinterestedly through their chemistry notes. Keeping his head down and focusing on the rows of Misao's insanely neat handwriting, Shinji replied "I'm here making sure no one attacks ya."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked in bored tone.

"I've gotten news from a friend suggestin' that humans with special abilities are at risk of bein' attacked. One boy at this school was already sent ta the hospital."

"So you're my bodyguard now?" She thought for a moment. "Was it Kurosaki-san?"

"Bodyguard sounds more professional than reality." He curled a strand of hair around his finger, gently tugging on one of her long ponytails. "How do you know Kurosaki?"

"His sisters are my friends." she said shortly. _My only friends_. "Was it him?"

"No, it wasn't him." He sighed inaudibly. "What made you think it was?"

"He's the only male with reiatsu I've ever met, besides Tou-san and Shoka." She looked down at the algebra notes she was writing and chewed her lower lip. "Or at least he was."

"Noticed that, didja?" he murmured, actually managing to answer Amizu-sensei's question of quadratic equations correctly. "Yeah, the kid burned himself out with that last stunt he pulled."

She wrote down all the formulas she'd need for the comprehensive test they were supposed to have on Friday. She had no idea what 'stunt' he was talking about so decided to ignore that comment. "Kurosaki-san and I don't get along."

"And why is that?" he asked curiously.

Misao shrugged, but the gesture looked rather out of place on her thin shoulders. "We just don't." She changed the subject fast. "Why are you the one following me?"

Dryly, Shinji replied "Not many of us can pass ourselves off as high school sophomores and the ones that can, can't behave like normal human beings. Case in point, Mashiro an' Hiyori. Lisa probably could." He grinned. "But I was the one who volunteered."

She tugged her skirt down nervously as she felt another rush come over her. "You have serious problems, Hirako-san."

"Whatever do you mean, Misao-chan?" he drawled slyly. Darting a quick glance to the front of the classroom to make sure no one was watching him, Shinji slid his hand under her desk and ran his fingertips along her thigh, only a few inches above her knee. "I'm sure I'm just a perfectly normal sixteen-year-old boy."

"What you are is flirting with a brick wall." she said in the usual tone of utter boredom. She nodded her head toward a busty girl with blue hair two rows up. "Why don't you go over and talk to Hanuri-san?"

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against the back of her neck as the teacher took a bathroom break. "What if I'm not interested in Hanuri-san?"

She used two fingers to push his forehead away from her person. "Hirako-san, you are attempting to travel to a destination that does not exist."

"An' I think yer wrong," he whispered back. "I've seen how ya are with yer brother. Yer not nearly as cold as ya want me ta believe, Misao-chan."

"Think whatever you want," she said tonelessly. She clamped his wandering hand between her legs, hard enough to start bending his wrist to an uncomfortable angle. "You can even play this strange game of yours. But don't cross lines or I'll scream rape so loud this whole school will hear it, Hirako-san."

"Call me Shinji, Misao-chan."

"No, Hirako-san."

Shinji sighed. This was going to be harder than he originally thought. But he wasn't willing to give up. She acted cold, but Shinji had seen her genuine concern for her brother and that sparkle in her eyes when she fought him on Saturday.

Sadly, the disaster didn't stop there for Misao. It continued as she and Shinji began walking home.

An angry voice yelled "Oi! Are you stalking me again, asshole?"

They turned to see a scowling teenager with blatantly orange hair marching toward them. Shinji frowned as Misao actually his behind him. Even after knowing her for only five days, he knew that had to be out character for her. Shinji smiled at the glaring Ichigo and yanked Misao from behind him. His smile turned into a grin as she clutched the back of his shirt hard. "Nah, I'm stalkin' this here pretty thing now. I think that's a step up, dontcha?"

As soon as Ichigo's gaze hit her, Shinji felt Misao' nails digging into his back and he noticed that Ichigo's face was black as a thundercloud. They were both extremely tense and stiff. "Good afternoon, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo's scowl became even darker (if possible) and his tone held some barely restrained emotion. It was barely civil, whatever it was. Shinji had a feeling he was going to find nail marks in his back when he changed for bed that night. And not for the reason he'd like, either. "Hello, Shiori-san." Ichigo had his mouth pressed into a tight line. "I have to go."

She was shaking against him. Physically trembling, just from exchanging a simple greeting with the other teenager. He had a hard time believing Ichigo would actually pick on an underclassman, but she was clearly terrified of being in the same vicinity as him. "Misao, did Ichigo ever…_do_ anything ta ya?"

Her face was buried in his shirt and she was trying to get rid of the horrible pain inside her head. Shoka was right – it did make her want to tear her brains from her skull. How could one person live with this inside their bodies? She felt like she was going to die and it had only been thirty seconds in his presence. "He hates me." she whispered, pressing her forehead into his collarbone. _Go away, please just make it go away!_ "I don't know why, he just hates me."

"It's because of Rukia."

A red-headed woman with the biggest boobs she'd ever even stood there with an intensely sad and worried expression. Her reiatsu was bright and steady. Her emotions were mixing with Kurosaki-san's lingering depression and hurt and anger and hate…A cold sweat broke out over her body and she began breathing unsteadily. She was actually using Shinji to keep herself standing. It didn't occur to her that she was plastered against him. "I hate humans…"

Shinji kept an arm around her shoulders as she moaned in agony and tried to pull herself together. "What has Kuchiki got ta do with her?"

"He hasn't seen her since…that day." Orihime cocked her fiery head at him. "You never met Rukia, did you, Hirako-kun?"

"No. Why?"

Orihime nodded in Misao's direction. "Did you know? They both have dark hair, and when she speaks, it sounds exactly like Rukia-chan's voice. Except Shiori-san, um, talks different…"

Shinji stared at the top of Misao's head, who was just focusing on Not Passing Out. "Uh, I didn't know he cared _that_ much. Thanks fer the tip, Orihime-chan. And thank ya fer lettin' me know about the attacks."

She smiled brightly. "No problem, Hirako-kun."

Misao managed to pull herself together and they walked back to her house slowly. "Was that your girlfriend?" Misao asked, shivering in her cold sweat. People in states like the one Ichigo was in were toxic to a person like her.

"Why?" Shinji noticed the shaking and hooked a hand around her hips so that she was forced to walk right next to him. He grinned lecherously. "Are ya jealous, Misao-chan?"

"No, I was planning to shove you off on her so you'd stop following me around." she said blandly. There was a pause for several moments. "You don't, uh, actually have to walk me home."

"Yer brother ain't home yet and ya can barely stand and walk forward." he said bluntly. "I'm amazed ya haven't fainted. That means I walk ya home."

She was amazed she hadn't fainted too, but she wasn't about to tell him that, so they continued in silence. Until… "Just remember Misao-chan, if ya ever need a pair of arms, I'm right here."

The tell-tale tinge of pink that appeared on her cheeks let him know she had gotten the real emotion behind that sentence. It was extremely gratifying.

"You need therapy, Hirako-san."


	8. Tempest In A Teapot

Paradox of Nihilism

Tempest In A Teapot

Thursday was much calmer. And if she ignored Hirako-san trying to sneak his hand up her skirt, it was almost normal. Unfortunately, she had the feeling that was about to become the norm for her.

Friday, on the other hand, was even worse than Wednesday. Friday was the comprehensive test for what they'd learned in Unit 2. Exam days were always bad for Misao. Her classmates were nervous and panicking (especially the ones that were unprepared), and she typically spent the majority of the day feeling nauseous due to their emotional contamination. Normally, she would finish her test as quickly as she could manage, calmly ask to go to the bathroom, and throw up until she felt well enough to go back.

Unfortunately, Misao had forgotten about one thing: she had Morimatsu Kanna and Minami Sagomaru in her class.

Kanna and Sagomaru were both acute sufferers of a condition commonly known as 'test taker's anxiety'. Extreme sufferers. So extreme, in fact, that Kanna and Misao both had to excuse themselves an hour before the test to go to the bathroom. Misao got rid of her breakfast and Kanna spent twenty minutes in complete tears.

She was unusually pale when she returned. "Are ya okay?" Shinji asked her, light brown eyes examining her a little more closely than she'd like. "Ya aren't lookin' so good, Misao-chan. Should I take ya ta the nurse?"

"No," she said evenly. "We have a test to take."

He looked like he wanted to say something, but for once, he kept his mouth shut.

_Good boy. I may be able to train you yet._

Sagomaru was hyperventilating by the halfway mark, which meant that Misao was trying _not_ to hyperventilate. Shinji stared at her anxiously. "I think ya really need ta go ta the nurse, Misao."

His concern made her head swim and she opened her mouth to tell him to wipe that stupid look off of his face. The words never came out. She and Sagomaru lost consciousness at the same moment. He ended up slumped against the arm of his neighbor's chair and Shinji had to catch Misao by the shirt before she cracked her head against the wall. He didn't wait for Amizu-sensei to tell him it was okay – Shinji scooped her up and was headed out the door before most of the class had even realized more than one person passed out.

"She fainted during a test." he panted to the nurse. She gestured for him to leave her on one of the plastic-covered beds. They made her as comfortable as possible and the nurse determined that Misao was not in serious medical danger. She went off to phone Shoka – standard procedure for a student who had lost consciousness in class but was not in need of immediate medical attention.

He sat there, humming 'God Bless the Child' and absently drawing designs on the back of her arm with his fingertips. "So stupid," he sighed, brushing stray strands of hair from her face. "Were ya gonna sit there bein' sick an' say nothin'? I woulda helped ya, darlin'."

She exhaled gently and groaned. Maybe she could still sense emotions while in an unconscious state. He smiled slightly, taking her hand. "Yer kinda cute when ya don't have that masked expression on."

She wrinkled her nose. "Hmmm."

He laughed quietly, kissing her palm. "Ya always wanna argue with me…"

Misao woke up before the end of the school day.

She stirred slightly. She felt someone's hand on her leg. It was the same hand she usually felt trying to crawl underneath her skirt, but this time it was firmly squeezing her knee. He managed to make even that feel dirty. Sleepily, Misao said "Hirako-san, are you trying to molest me while I sleep?"

She heard his soft laughter. "Is thatta question or a request?"

She opened her eyes and they stared at each other. "Would you like me to scream rape now and save us the time or shall we draw it out?"

His brown eyes widened. "Was that? Could it be? Did-did I just detect a sense of humor in you, Misao-chan?"

"Ha ha," she replied tonelessly. "Is the test almost over now?"

"The school day is almost over now," Shinji replied cheerfully. "The nurse had ta go home. I promised ta stay an' look after ya."

She cringed and stood up. "Damn it!"

He yanked her back down to the bed. "Yer grades are good enough ta miss half a day. Calm down. I ain't lettin' ya go just ta faint again before we go home."

She sighed deeply in resignation. "As long as we get out of here on time," she agreed, shifting on the bed. "Did the nurse call Shoka?"

He smirked. "Yeah. He was about ta have a panic attack an' faint like ya did, but I calmed him down a bit. The nurse thinks I'm yer boyfriend now." He adopted a high-pitched, feminine way of speaking. _"You make such a sweet young couple! So cute!_ Why are ya so anxious ta get outta here taday?"

"It's Friday." she answered vaguely.

He raised his eyebrows. "What – ya gotta hot date tanight? Is he better lookin' than me, darlin'?"

"No, I don't have a date. I meet Yuzu and Karin down the street on Fridays," she replied distractedly. "I have coffee and help them with their homework."

"So…this is like…yer version of socializin'," he deduced slowly. "Yeah, okay. We'll go ta the shop with yer little girlfriends an' ya can talk about…advanced physics or hot guys or whatever it is ya talk about."

"Ah, no." Misao said sharply. "_You_ are going to go back to the warehouse and…watch porn, or whatever it is you do when you're not stalking me. _I_ am going to go down the street and have coffee with Yuzu and Karin until six like I do every Friday."

Shinji was giving her a strange stare.

"What?" she demanded, actually feeling a twinge of anger. She hated it when people stared at her. It made her feel like she was the attraction at a circus.

"That's the way it is with ya, ain't it?" He was still staring at her in that infuriating way. "Ya go through yer routine like clockwork an' never do anything ta deviate from yer schedule. I already know ya eat the same lunch everyday an' walk to an' from school the same way. I bet ya get dressed in the same order every single mornin' an' eat the same breakfast, too. Ya get perfect grades and yer uniform is always pristine. I'll bet ya do yer chores on the same day of the week, dontcha? I'll bet yer house is as clean as a hospital, am I right?"

It was scary how right he was. What would have been even scarier was that, it was worse than he thought. She ate the same seven dinners each week, folded the laundry with precision the military would have envied, and never, ever missed a single day of school. She was never sick – because she being sick was not in Shiori Misao's schedule – and she never did anything that wasn't planned a week in advance. Shoka had expressed dismay about this several times, but like his Visored problem, he didn't have the knowledge or the resources to do anything about it.

She stared back at him blandly. "So?"

"What do ya mean 'so'?" Shinji demanded. "Do ya _live_ at all, Misao?"

"That's what I'm doing right now, isn't it?" Her tone actually contained something like a snarl. Controlled Misao was getting a little testy. "I'm fairly certain that's what it means when the air moves in and out of my lungs like this."

"No, darlin', that's not livin', that's _existing_," he said patiently. "Are ya happy _at all_? How can ya stand ta be this way?"

It was almost the same thing she thought whenever she was near Ichigo. _How can he stand to be this way?_ "My emotions – or lack thereof – have nothing to do with you, Hirako-san," she said coldly, getting up and preparing to storm off. "Do not presume to tell me how I feel."

Now that just pissed him off.

Shinji blocked her way and for that one moment they faced each other, she actually looked mad enough to try hitting him. But he stopped whatever she could have possibly done, because that was when he kissed her.

He didn't do it nicely, either. It was no chaste, sweet first kiss he gave her. His tongue darted through Misao's slightly parted lips, his piercing scraping against her teeth and making her whole mouth taste like metal. Like blood. Her only reaction was clenching her fist in the front of his shirt. Her mind tried valiantly to instruct her body to shut down and disconnect. It might have worked, too, but she forgot to factor in Shinji's dogged persistence.

He realized she was trying to block the whole experience out and growled into her mouth with frustration.

Upon further reflection, he realized that his next action probably changed the whole course of their relationship.

Without breaking the kiss, he shoved her into the nearest wall and kneaded her bottom with both hands, forcing her up and against him so that she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist to keep herself from falling, putting their crotches in direct contact. His body was against her and his lust was inside her, raging wildly through her body.

One hand was around his shoulders, holding tight, and the other was tangled through his golden hair. For once, she wasn't in complete control. What was scarier was that, she didn't know if she actually hated that...

He kept his hands firmly on her ass and used his weight to press her into the wall, grinding against her fiercely as he ravaged her mouth. Her lips responded to him, slowly, hesitantly, but she was responding.

She whimpered into him, the arm around his shoulders tightening, and something inside him snapped.

Their lips separated and Shinji's mouth came down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Her skin tasted like something sweet and flowery, something he half-remembered, as though from a dream. Strong teeth sank into the flesh hard – hard enough to leave evidence. The hand in his hair tightened, long nails scraped his scalp, and Misao cried out into the stark space of the white, cold office. That cry would stay with him for a long, long time – because it was a pure, uncalculated sound of honest emotion. It contained something from her that was unrestrained and beautiful. And she could deny it later, but she arched into him. For one moment, her pelvis was grinding back against him, her breasts rubbed against his chest, and her hands drew him into her.

Her whole body was trying to join his whole body.

Misao's face was to the ceiling and her eyes were closed. For those few seconds, she didn't recognize who she was. She only knew that this man made her feel like she was melting and it was the most wonderful sensation…

That brief moment was shattered when they both heard the sound of high heels on the linoleum out in the hallway. It took nanoseconds for them to fly apart. Shinji went to glance out the door, flattening his hair as he did, and Misao filled one of the paper cups near the sink with cold water. She sat on the plastic bed and sipped until the fire in her body died down. He stood at the opposite end of the room, hands folded pensively behind his head. They were at different ends of the room, staring at different walls, thinking very similar things.

'What The Fuck Did I Just Do?'


	9. This Does Not Belong To You

Paradox of Nihilism

This Does Not Belong To You

Shinji was pissed off at himself. Thirty seconds. It had taken thirty fucking seconds for his instinct control to snap in half. And in those thirty seconds, he'd gone farther with Misao than he'd ever intended to go with her, period. He was only thinking he would give her a couple little kisses, make her shine a little, and then unleash her on her classmates. Maybe if she brightened up a bit, the girl could get some friends. He saw the way her classmates looked at her. They called her "Zombie Girl", "Neat-Freak", and "Miss OCD", just to name a few.

Instead, he shoved her against a wall in the nurse's office of her school, and _bit her_. In fact, he was fairly certain that if he hadn't been reminded of their location, Shinji would have shoved her skirt up and yanked her panties down…She would have liked it – he would make sure she did – but they'd both hate themselves and each other for it afterward.

Shinji was the Visored who took longest to become a Hollow. He was the first to gain back control of his sanity. He set the record for the fastest time, too – twenty-two minutes and eight point eight three seconds. He was an exceptional Shinigami and he'd like to think he'd been a good captain, too. He'd always made sure to appear relaxed. Carefree. Loose. But this girl made him feel wound up, like screws were tightening inside him.

Misao was trying to concentrate on everything normal around her, taking comfort in the ideas of her routines and rituals. She wasn't this bad when her parents were alive, but even before their deaths, she liked routines. Cleanliness. Order. The knowledge that when she accomplished something, there was evidence of that accomplishment. She liked perfection. Shoka had even gone so far as to say that she was obsessed with it. It became a kind of perversion that she couldn't escape.

But of course, everyone had their own ideas of perfection.

She learned her manner of monotone speech and blank facial expressions early on in her childhood – her father helped her to develop her mask. As it turned out, it was more normal to appear as though you felt nothing than to appear as though you felt everything. The other children made fun of her for it, but she didn't care – she was too busy fighting off the emotions of an entire classroom full of students. What did she care if they never talked to her? It just gave her less to worry about.

Her personality in general had always been on the more aloof side. She seemed to grow even colder the more she aged.

But this man…

This man made her feel like she was being burned alive.

It was so easy to be detached from the world. She could disregard everything else that was happening around her so easily. Why was it so hard to ignore _this_?

They were utterly silent walking out of the school, until the wind blew away the strands of hair guarding her neck, revealing a very distinctive set of teeth marks. "Wait," he said, grabbing her arm to stop her. He hovered two fingers over the bite wound and it vanished. "There."

"You know healing Kido?" she asked, blinking up at him. She had on her usual dispassionate façade again.

_Damn it_, Shinji thought irritably. _It's like we're back to square one._

"No," he replied softly. "I haven't healed ya – I've hidden the-it. Sakanade gives me a few boosts in illusion-based Kido."

"Who?" They continued to the café, their postures and tones still carefully polite. Stiff.

"My zanpakuto. Its name is Sakanade."

"But you just spoke about it as if it were a person."

"Well, he is." Shinji allowed. "They all are. Kinda."

She shook her head. "He? It? I don't understand this concept, Hirako-san. Something is male, female, or neither. It can't be both."

"My zanpakuto is a blade, and therefore, an 'it'. But the spirit is male, and therefore, a 'he'. Shojohime as a katana is 'it' – but I assume that the spirit is female, right?"

"…Yes…" He saw her put a hand over the bite on her neck. "Could I…is it possible to meet Sakanade?"

Well, then. Maybe they weren't back to letter one, after all.

It was not a bad question. At least, he didn't think so. But in society's terms… "Listen – in Soul Society, that's not the kind of thing ya should ask somebody. Ever. It's a taboo. No one should be able ta see yer zanpakuto's spirit, because it reveals the deepest part of yer nature. In another person's hands, that would be a dangerous weapon."

"Oh," He could see her closing off. "I see."

Misao stopped as she felt a large hand land on the top of her head, ruffling her hair. She felt a warmth that was strange expand inside her that must have been from him. But then, Hirako-san was a strange person. "Misao, I didn't mean it wasn't okay fer ya ta ask _me_ that." He smiled, as always revealing a row of straight white teeth. "I'll show ya Sakanade someday, darlin'."

She stared straight ahead, to all appearances having all the emotional capabilities of an ice sculpture. "You don't have to do that."

He stroked the top of her head, just once. "It's a promise."

Yuzu blushed and stammered when she realized there was a boy in their group for the day. Shinji gave her his most charming smile. "Hello, darlin'. Ya must be Yuzu-chan. I'm Shinji. Misao's boyfriend."

Karin rolled her eyes and muttered "Maybe in an alternate universe." She knew her friend much too well to believe that kind of crockery.

Misao calmly stamped on his foot. He yelped and gave her an accusatory stare. She didn't even attempt to look innocent or sorry. "Don't tell her lies. That's a bad habit."

"I'm Karin," the dark-haired twin said coolly. "Misao's track partner."

Misao sipped her usual coffee with milk and no sugar and scanned their new schedules for the season. "Coach Namakara changed our practice days from Mondays and Tuesdays to Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays," she said, frowning. "Apparently our schedule was conflicting with student council meetings on Tuesday."

"Mm." Karin grunted. "Our best runner sprained her ankle rollerblading. And we have our first meet in a week and a half, too."

"Maybe we should ask your brother about running for the track team," Misao admitted reluctantly. "Shimiya-san and I are tied for second best and we've both had trouble beating Rizune's runners in the past…"

Yuzu shook her head. "Onii-chan has already been hired by the soccer team. And he has a part time job, too."

Karin nodded grimly. "We're just going to have to pick up our performance. I will not lose to that smug bastard Kato again!"

Her lighted-haired twin bit her lip. "What that the one who said a girl could never keep up with him?" That had been a very BAD day in the Kurosaki house.

Karin's fists clenched. "Yeah, that's the one."

Alarmed, Yuzu cleared her throat and promptly changed the subject. "How did the comprehensive exam in algebra go, Misao-chan?"

Misao stirred her coffee, her lips pursed. It gave her a slightly sullen expression.

"She fainted." Shinji supplied. Misao's hand clenched on the spoon and her hand rubbed her neck again. She didn't seem to notice she was doing it.

"Nani?" Yuzu cried in concern. "What happened?"

Misao forced a cheery smile. "I didn't have any breakfast and I didn't feel like eating what was for lunch today, so I'm sure it was just because I was so hungry and nervous. Please, don't worry, Yuzu-chan."

That whole sentence was a network of lies. Shinji knew this, because as he well knew, Misao ate the same breakfast and the same lunch every day without fail and he'd _seen_ eat her lunch. That, and Misao didn't call anyone '-chan'. Even her brother was 'Shoka' or 'Shoka-nii'. Everyone else was either '-san' or had no honorific. She greeted them in the latter when they first arrived.

_Interesting_, he thought, glancing from her to the twins and back. _Even her closest friends are still being held just at arm's length. Misao and Karin both have to realize by now that the other one has some considerable reiatsu, and yet neither of them seem to acknowledge it…_

The subject was dropped and their discussion turned into what they were planning to do during the weekend. "Ichi-nii promised to treat me." Yuzu beamed. "He's letting me get a dress from that new store that opened up last month."

Karin shrugged. "Dad said something about having a picnic, so we'll probably do that, too."

Misao sipped her coffee. "Shoka-nii has a business trip this weekend, so I'm going with him." How calmly and easily those lies slipped past her lips. He wondered if she lied to everyone with such ease. She had the poker face for it. "His birthday is on Sunday, but I'm not really sure what to get him. I was thinking of getting him an Elvis Presley CD. He's turning twenty-one."

Shinji's eyebrows shot up past his bangs. What would a twenty-one year old want with an Elvis Presley CD?

Apparently, Karin was thinking something similar. "Your brother listens to Elvis?"

Misao smiled slightly. "Tou-san loved Elvis so we both kind of grew up with it. The first song I ever remember hearing was 'Love Me, Tender'."

"That's much cornier than I would have ever expected from you." Karin observed.

Shinji watched Misao from the corner of his ear. There was something sad in her expression. It wasn't in her eyes – since they day they fought, nothing was ever in her eyes. He thought it must be something around her mouth that gave the impression of sorrow. Her skirt had ridden up slightly and she was gripping her thigh with her nails curved toward the vulnerable flesh.

She noticed him examining her and removed the hand from her leg quickly. He stared.

There were large white crescents where her nails had met the soft flesh of her thigh. She pulled the skirt down – he was beginning to think that was a nervous habit of hers – but it only partially covered the marks. He reached under the table and tapped the area with two fingers. Like her neck, the wounds vanished, leaving the skin looking unblemished.

She actually turned her head and gave him a small smile, her hand subconsciously touching the place on her neck where he bit her. She could probably still feel the edges of teeth marks on her skin. _Do you hate it?_, he wondered silently. _Do you hate touching your own skin and feeling where I've touched you – kissed you?_

"Why don't you make him a mixed CD?" Yuzu suggested brightly.

Karin nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. You won't have the songs he doesn't really like that way."

"Maybe." Misao commented neutrally.

They left the coffee shop in slightly better standing than when they arrived.

Shinji saw her reach up and subconsciously rub the spot on her neck again. Apparently Misao was developing a new nervous habit. "Ya gotta stop doin' that, darlin'," he said gently, carefully pulling her fingers away from her skin. "The natural reiatsu in yer body will overpower my spell an' the spell will wear off if ya keep at it."

She nodded her understanding. That expressive mouth was giving her a strange expression again. It was almost…pained. He smiled and squeezed her fingers – anything to make that odd expression go away. Surprisingly, it actually became more severe. Her face…he didn't even know if she aware she was doing it…That face truly said that she _ached_. The kind of ache you only felt deep inside your heart.

She looked away from him, releasing her fingers from his hold.

After all, Shinji didn't know that even after drinking that entire cup of coffee, she still couldn't shake the taste of blood in her mouth. The taste of his kiss.

She shuddered and they walked on.

_This beast inside you does not belong to you. You have nothing he wants, Misao. You have nothing he wants…This does not belong to you…_


	10. Soul Meets Body

Paradox of Nihilism

Soul Meets Body

On Saturday morning, Misao and Shoka went back to the warehouse for more training. Today, Shoka was going to gain control over the monster inside his body. Both of the Shiori siblings were nervous. In the underground practice room of the warehouse, they sat across from each other and tried to pretend they weren't. Shinji stood several feet away and tried not to act like he was eavesdropping.

"Listen, Misao," Shoka began unsteadily. "If they have to kill me…I want you to take all the money I hid. It's in the tux Dad wore for their wedding. Then, look in the back of Mama's Kido book. She said she left some information on the back cover in case of emergencies."

Her whole body was tense. "You're not going to die, Shoka. There are eight of them and none of them died doing this. You…you can't die. I'm…I-I can't do _anything_ without you," she admitted quietly. "I can't…_deal_ with people. But you always made it so easy for me…"

"Promise," Shoka hissed. "Promise that if I die, you're going to take the money and the book and find a safe place to stay."

Misao would not cry. But she would clench her jaw a lot. "I promise, Shoka-nii. I won't need any of it, but I promise."

Her big brother nodded his head stiffly. "Good girl." He patted her head, ruffling her darker hair. "Good imoto."

Even after this, she couldn't take it in the end. She just couldn't watch her brother become that monster again. She would still be able to feel the lull of the Visored's emotions from somewhere else. Misao took her mp3 player and ran back upstairs, turning the volume up to the highest setting. She didn't want to hear the wolf howling. She didn't want to hear it howl ever again.

All in all, Shoka didn't have very bad timing. It took him forty-nine minutes and two point zero six seconds to beat his Hollow. But as good as his time was, he still ended up passing out – they all did. It was inevitable, with the kind of work it took to subdue something that powerful inside yourself. Shinji left Hachi to begin healing him and the others to recover again from the taxing process of wearing down – or _attempting_ to wear Shoka down, anyway. In the meantime, he was going to tell Misao the good news of Shoka's new found (and hard earned) freedom.

She was lying on the spare bunk bed.

She didn't see him come in – she was sprawled on the bed facing the doorway and her eyes were closed. He was certain that if she had seen him, it wouldn't have happened. At first, he thought she was sleeping. Her body was pliant and relaxed and her breathing was steady. (In his thoughts, he always admired her face when she was relaxed. It made her look almost pretty. Almost…cute.)

From the doorway, he could hear her mp3 player. She had the volume up on the earphones to the highest setting. He could pick up the beat, but he didn't know the individual words until she started singing.

_I want to live where soul meets body  
>And let the sun wrap its arms around me<br>Bathe my skin in water cool and cleansing  
>And feel…feel what it's like to be new<br>Cause it my head there's a greyhound station  
>Where I send my thoughts to far-off destinations<br>So they may have a chance of finding a place  
>Where they're far more suited than here…<em>

Her singing was beautiful.

She had a nice voice. She was a little flat, but it was nice. That's not what made it beautiful, though. It's not what made him stand there, transfixed in the doorway and body shaking with…something. Something bittersweet and indefinable.

_And I cannot guess what we'll discover  
>When we turn the dirt<br>With our palms cupped like shovels  
>But I know our filthy hands<br>Can wash one another's  
>And not one speck will remain…<em>

It was the longing. The emotion that filled her voice as she sang made it beautiful. But no fifteen-year-old should have the kind of longing he heard in her voice embedded so deeply inside them. That kind of deeply buried loneliness that was there. In that moment, it was almost as if he was the one who could adopt emotions.

_And I do believe it's true  
>That there are roads left<br>In both of our shoes  
>But if this silence take you<br>Than I hope it take me too  
>So brown eyes I'll hold you near<br>Cause you're the only song I want to hear  
>A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere<em>

_Where soul meets body…  
>Where soul meets body…<br>Where soul meets body…_

_And I do believe it's true  
>That there are roads left<br>In both of our shoes  
>But if this silence takes you<br>Then I hope it take me too  
>So brown eyes I'll hold you near<br>Cause you're the only song I want to hear_

_A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere  
>A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere<br>A melody softly soaring through my atmosphere…_

Misao rolled over to see Shinji staring at her from the other side of the bed. She stared back silently in embarrassed surprise. She used her elbows to prop herself into a sitting position, frowning slightly in confusion. She could feel that strange expanding warmth inside her coming from him. The earphones slipped off her head. The mp3 player had gone from 'Death Cab For Cutie' in the D's to 'Elvis Presley' in the E's. The sound of "Are You Lonesome Tonight?" filling the empty room made her flush from some unknown reason. "Wha-"

He pressed a finger gently to her lips. She became silent, slightly disquieted by the odd look in his brown eyes.

He didn't know what he was doing. But he knew that he wanted to possess that longing in her voice, crush that unspeakable loneliness like a piece of paper.

The finger on her lips put emphasis on her lower lip, the calloused appendage slowly caressing. Her lips parted softly and Misao softly released a quiet sigh. Shinji leaned forward, entranced. Their eyes met and he knew that he was going to kiss her and she knew that she wanted him to…

"Shinji, you dickhead, you were supposed to get dinner!" Hiyori screamed, digging around to find their stash of petty cash. "Motherfucker, get your ass out here and find us some food! SHINJI!"

Misao jerked back, Hiyori's ire flooding her heart and breaking the strange spell he held over her.

_The spell we put on each other,_ he thought wryly. He scowled, thinking out all the ways he could innocently kill Hiyori in her sleep and still get away with it. _Maybe if I shove a pillow over her face and smother her, that bitch will finally be fucking __quiet__ for once…_

He turned away, stepping inside the doorway. "Yer brother did great," he said quietly. "He's unconscious now – they always are – but Hachi says he should wake up in a couple hours. After dinner, meet Kensei in the practice room. Ya have a couple hours of sparrin' practice with him."

Dinner was excessively large quantities of pork ramen. Followed by excessively large quantities of ass-kicking. Kensei did not go easy on her at all, in fact, he commented that he should be able to go even harder on her, since she already had two sessions with the Visoreds. Unlike Shinji, Kensei would not give her openings to exploit, and unlike Love, he would not give her breaks to catch her breath, either. Kensei took absolutely no mercy on her, playing cat and mouse with her until her right arm went numb and her legs were cramping with effort. When two hours was finally over, Misao thought she was going to die. Every muscle in her body was aching and she felt weak as a kitten.

Kensei walked off and she was left to collapse on the dusty dirt of the practice room floor. Staring up at the strangely blue, vast ceiling up in the distance. It was same color as the sky, but not nearly as interesting. There was no sun, no moon, no stars, and no clouds. Just an expanse of endless blue. She didn't like it. It was perfect, but boring.

A mocking imitation of beauty in nature.

Golden bangs and brown eyes entered her field of vision. "Can ya move?"

"Only my lips," she replied faintly, still trying to catch her breath and slow her heart down. It took her ten seconds of watching him grin suggestively to realize what it was that she just said. "You know that wasn't an invitation, Hirako-san."

"No," he allowed. "Probably more like a Freudian slip, Misao-chan."

"I can't move my body," she confessed. "I can't even _feel_ most of my body."

"Yeah, Kensei is a bit overzealous with the trainees." Shinji acknowledged, helping her to sit up. "But then again, he'd used ta workin' with Mashiro, who never gets tired. He likes ya though. I can tell."

She looked unconvinced. "How do you know?"

"He hasn't foamed at the mouth with rage, has he?"

"No," Her weak hand reached up and rubbed her neck.

"Then he likes ya." Apparently she hadn't been able to resist touching it, despite his early warning that it would dissipate his illusion. Sighing, Shinji reached over and once again, gently pried Misao's fingers away from her skin. His gut clenched. "Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry…"

Her mouth told him all of her emotions. It said she was confused and prepared to dismiss his guilt. He couldn't let her do that – not after making her neck look like _that_. "I'm sure it doesn't look that bad, Hirako-san."

"Koibito, ya look like ya were attacked by a wild animal," he stated bluntly. Gently, he traced the curving line made by his teeth. Surrounding those very identifiable impressions were livid black and blue bruises. He could even see flecks of dried blood. _I am a bastard and I deserve to be kneecapped for this…_ "I had no idea I bit ya that hard, honey. I'm so sorry. I'll get Hachi ta fix it."

Misao absently covered her neck again. "I can just put a bandage over it, Hirako-san. It really doesn't hurt, either. It's…much warmer than my skin, but it isn't painful."

He diverted his eyes, unwilling to look at that ugly mark he'd made on her for very long. "Just make sure it don't get infected," he muttered. "There are some first-aid supplies in the bathroom upstairs."

She felt the unease in him and for a moment, Shinji felt her hand squeeze his wrist. He looked back and saw her making her slow and painful way back up the stairs. A smile small curved over his face as he followed a few feet behind her. _You're so much sweeter than you let on, koibito._


	11. Glow

Paradox of Nihilism

Glow

Shoka noticed the bandage on her neck. She told him she was allergic to a kind of lotion Yuzu let her try and got a terrible rash from it. He never asked her about it after that. She felt guilty for the rest of Saturday night.

Sunday was her brother's twenty-first birthday.

Misao finally decided to get Shoka the fifth season of NCIS for his birthday – something she knew he'd been wanting for a long time. It wasn't even close to what she was contemplating, but this was more of a sure thing. Besides, she was fairly certain that Shoka had all the Elvis music he wanted.

In the afternoon, he went into jinzen. While Shoka tried to bring out his zanpakuto, Misao spent six and a half hours trying to beat Lisa – as futile as that exercise was. But she would still take six and a half hours of sparring with Lisa than another two with Kensei. Parts of her body she didn't know she owned until this morning still ached with that reminder.

By eleven at night, Shoka still hadn't come out of jinzen and Misao had school in the morning. The Visored once again sent her up to the spare lower bunk.

"Hey, Misao," a voice whispered in her ear. "It's time ta get up."

She stirred slightly, fingers curled in the blankets around her. "Shoka-nii?"

That same voice laughed quietly and a rush filled her body. "Baby, if I'm yer brother, this relationship is much more complicated than I thought."

_Shinji!_ She pushed herself up, ignorant of the fact that she just internally used his first name. "I'm awake," she said curtly. "Don't get any funny ideas, Hirako-san."

"Whose gettin' funny ideas? I think ya have a dirty mind there, Misao-chan. Hurry an' get dressed. Ya have to eat yer toast quick, or we'll be late."

"Was Shoka-?"

"No, the zanpakuto is too angry ta cooperate with him right now."

He was openly staring. He knew it, but he really couldn't help it. She gave him an arch look, but _he couldn't help it._ How could he possibly _not_ stare when she was prancing around dressed like that?

Shinji thoroughly approved of the Karakura High School's track team uniform. Particularly on his classmate, Misao-chan. Although he had to say, the other second-place runner, Shimiya-san didn't look bad either. Nor did Karin. But as soon as they started doing stretches, his eyes were glued to Misao. _Is this…free? Shouldn't ya havta pay like, an entrance fee, or somethin'? Oh, good god…_

Like all the other girls, Misao wore her hair in a high ponytail, her bangs framing her face and falling in thin trails to her collarbone like an afterthought. Her uniform consisted of a pair of tight navy blue shorts, track shoes, and a white t-shirt that begged to be peeled off her – slow and sexy. Dirty thoughts raced through his head faster than Mashiro on a sugar high. Misao knew it, too – he could tell. Her face was pink before the team even started running. _If ya knew exactly what I was thinkin', darlin', ya'd be red as a tomato._

Practice was a fabulous two hours of delicious torture for Shinji and veiled embarrassment for Misao. At the end of practice, she talked to Karin and seemed even more irritated. He waited patiently as the whole team hit the showers. She came back in a dark green dress, her hair still damp. "Did you have to stare the entire time?" she hissed at him indignantly. "Half the girls are in love with you and the other half think you're a creepy stalker now."

He just smiled. "Darlin', ya were practically invitin' me ta look. It woulda been rude not ta accept. What's got yer panties in twist, honey?"

"Don't call me that," she said petulantly, touching the white gauze covering her neck.

"What, yer okay with 'darlin' and 'koibito', but ya don't like 'honey'?" he asked incredulously. "Seriously, did somebody spit in yer cornflakes this mornin', sweetheart? Ya look…well, ya never look anything but bored, but ya seem kinda ticked off."

"We aren't going to the café on Friday." There was an edge to her voice. "Karin needs help with her home economics project and Yuzu can't help her because she's having a cavity filled at the dentist's. I have to go to the Kurosaki's house."

"No." Shinji replied. "Next problem."

"Unfortunately it's not up to you. I have to get over this sometime," she pointed out in a very logical voice. "I can't just cower every time I see Ichigo-san coming down the street."

"No, ya won't cower," he said cheerfully. "I'll be happy ta let ya hide behind me."

She gave him a burning, doubtful glare. "I am going to pretend I didn't hear you say that."

"Darlin', I'll let ya do anythin' ya want," he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

"I want you to go away," she said blandly.

But her mouth was giving her away to him again. He had to admit that he was beginning to love that about her. "Yer about ta smile."

"I am not," she said severely.

"Ya were," he insisted. "I saw ya. Ya were gonna smile. Ya make yer whole face blank but yer mouth shows me what yer thinkin'."

"I'll have to learn to stop that," she muttered thoughtfully, touching the makeshift bandage. For a moment, he saw her small white teeth come out and nibble her lower lip.

She was facing away from him, so she wasn't able to see the mischievous smile that lighted his features. "I know how."

"How?" She was more focused on her own thoughts than him and that was very dangerous on a man as quick as he was perverted.

"If you don't want me to know what you're thinking, you should kiss me," he said, utterly serious.

She looked at him, momentarily stunned by his serious tone and proper syntax – something he never used. The rushing swell of desire threatened to pull her into a whirlpool. His hand came up and gently, oh so gently, stroked the back of her head, black hair wet from her locker room shower. The lightness in her body was back, warring with the desire. Her chin tilted up to look him in the eye. For once, Shinji was not smiling. Her inner thighs tingled. Shinji's spell was over her once again. "Kiss me, koibito."

How could she possibly fight against that command? The compulsion was so strong before he ever said the words that she was licking her lips. With one hand on his arm, she leaned up on her toes slightly to make up the small height difference. Lips brushed against each other gently, just a soft sigh of touch. But even if she would never admit it, Misao wanted to taste blood again. She wanted to taste the way his tongue ring turned the flavor of his mouth metallic, feel the way his tongue moved fluidly against hers with quick hunger.

But she could not admit this, even to herself.

That didn't prevent her from nipping his bottom lip. He groaned and opened for her, the wet hair clenched in his fist dripping down his shirt sleeve. He groaned again as she pressed closer to him, her tongue flicking insistently on his piercing. She tasted strangely like apples. It was probably the gallon of flavored water she drank at practice. He let her lead, slipping both hands in her wet, tangled hair. She was slow, hesitant, and soft. But hungry.

The other hand tugged the collar of his shirt, automatically aligning their bodies together. She whimpered as he lightly bit the corner of her mouth. He tasted the way she remembered, the way she wanted him to. He smiled into the kiss as he felt her fingernails curl and uncurl on his arm, like a kitten kneading a blanket. _Kawaii!_

"Mmmmm." She moaned and pulled away, her chest heaving with shaking breaths. Her hand was still wrapped around his wrist, her fingers trembling against his pulse. "I think that communicated its own message, ne, Hirako-san?"

He stared and watched her other hand come up and cover the white gauze on her neck.

He was a little out of breath himself. He chuckled and leaned down, kissing her temples and working his way into her hair. "You may have to repeat that to me, Misao. I didn't quite get that last part."

She shuddered, feeling shivers that made her weak kneed go down her spine. He was still using his serious voice and it had a debilitating effect on her speaking skills. "We…we have to go back to the warehouse," she reminded him softly. "Shoka-nii is going into jinzen again."

"Hai." He held her hand until the warehouse came into sight, keeping his fingers tightly around hers, even when she tried to tug them away. That light glow was anchored deep inside her – which meant it was deep inside him. She was afraid she was beginning to understand what this feeling was. She was beginning to fear that he wouldn't understand when she told him no. It wasn't as if she really wanted to hurt Shi – Hirako-san.

Shoka was already in jinzen when they arrived at the warehouse. Shinji and Misao sat next to Hiyori, who was apparently on watch duty. Misao pulled her Japanese homework out and addressed the blond girl. "How long has he been like this, Sarugaki-san?"

"Since noon," Hiyori grunted. "That must be one pissed off zanpakuto. He had a dislocated shoulder and a shattered wrist this morning. It was a bitch for Hachi to fix."

"It's his own fault," Shinji replied quietly. Misao stare at him. "Shoka an' is zanpakuto carry a great deal of distrust an' resentment toward each other. He subconsciously associates his weapon with his Hollow – probably because they appeared at the same time – so he rejects it. That rejection fuel's the zanpakuto's anger and pain. This is Shoka's fault and now he has to fix it."

"How long will that take?" She was actually a little surprised by how well thought that explanation was.

"As long as it takes for Shoka to learn to trust his zanpakuto," Shinji said pensively. "How stubborn is he?"

"Normally he's not. But when he puts his mind to something…"

"Yeah?"

"He's like a mountain. Will not be moved."

Shinji sighed. "This may take weeks, months, or years. But each time he goes inta jinzen, they're a little closer ta trustin' each other."

"It didn't take this long for me."

"Apparently ya've given Shojohime no reason ta resent ya. An' ya were able ta trust her completely, with yer whole heart. Shoka an' his zanpakuto can't do that yet."

Mashiro tried to wrangle Misao into sparring with her for a little while, but thankfully, Shinji got her to back off. "Not everybody has yer unlimited energy," he chuckled, shooing the girl away. "Misao-chan already had some good exercise taday an' she needs ta get some homework done. Go off an' bug Kensei fer me, will ya?"

"Yay! I'll go bug Kensei doo-doo head!" Mashiro cheered, skipping away with the goal of pissing the white-haired man off.

"Thanks for that," Misao said quietly, pulling out the essay she had due on Wednesday.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, the other eye noticing that Hiyori was now comfortably asleep. Apparently she thought they could take over her watch. "No problem. Yer gonna hafta make it up ta her tomorrow, though. I can't hold her off that way fer very long."

She murmured back in acknowledgment, trying to check for spelling mistakes throughout the four pages she had written so far. "Tomorrow I'll have the time. Tonight I have two more pages to write and a make-up assignment for History."

What he muttered under his breath sounded a lot like complaints at her for being so anal retentive.

"What was that, Hirako-san?" she asked loudly.

He grinned shamelessly. "Ya need ta loosen up, darlin'. I bet I know how ta fix that." His voice was a soft, enticing murmur. "Do ya know how ta dance, Misao-chan?"

"Mama taught us to waltz. And Tou-san knew how to do the…jive, I think. Ask Shoka."

"Do ya know how tango?" The fact that his grin was beginning to seem sexy instead of creepy meant that she was in deeper than she wanted to be.

"What is a tango?" she asked politely.

He chuckled and she felt the hair on her arms rise. "It's a kind of dance, darlin'." She noticed that he was just far enough away from her to be considered appropriate but still too close for people who only knew each other a week and a half. "It's a dance about sex." Maybe his body language was appropriate, but his voice was anything but. "The dancers perform the steps ta mimic an act of passion an' carnal desire."

"Oh?" Was she supposed to be breathing this fast just from the words he uttered? "I suppose you're very familiar with this dance."

He grinned wickedly at her. "I've done it once or twice," he agreed, brushing hair away from her neck. His voice was becoming lower, huskier. "I'd love ta teach it ta ya, Misao-chan…"

She cleared her throat. "I'm not very graceful, Hirako-san. I'm afraid I wouldn't make a very good dance partner."

A finger ran down her arm and she didn't know why, but it went straight between her thighs. The knowledge that these weren't her own emotions suddenly wasn't helping her. "Ya don't need ta be very graceful, koibito. All ya have ta do is move with me…" He placed soft, light kisses on the unmarked side of her neck. He was making her head spin. "Follow my lead, koibito. Learn my rhythm…"

She tried to sound serious and severe, but came out sounding breathless. "I don't think we're talking about dancing anymore, Hirako-san."

He kissed the corner of her mouth, lips moving with sensual care against her skin. "Whatever gave ya that impression, Misao-chan?"

Whatever reply she could have given him was cut off when Shoka gasped, jerking violently as he snapped out of his jinzen. A cut across his face made a trail of dried blood come from his temples and he held up his shaking hands. The appendages were bloody and mangled, mutilated almost beyond recognition. "Help me," he said hoarsely. "Please help me."

Shinji was already out of the room. "HACHI! Hachi, we need you!"


	12. The Mountain

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: There will be a few hints for events several chapters away from now, but I hope you enjoy this little look into Shoka's inner world and his quite butch zanpakuto. ;)

The Mountain

It took Shoka a very long time to go into jinzen. He didn't want to go back to see that person. But without that person's help, he had nothing to protect Misao with – nothing that could possibly defend her against the forces of the spiritual world around them. So he closed his eyes and let himself go deep within, seeking that other presence inside.

The cold wind howled around him, lashing snow into his face. He shivered against the frigid mountain wind, eyes squinting into the darkness to find a spot of light. It was there, only a few feet behind him. Shoka stumbled into the cave, staring straight into the yellow-orange glare of the fire at the center of the hard stone floor. The cavern was so large that when he looked up into the ceiling, all he could find was darkness. Primitive drawings decorated the walls of the cave around him. The one that always caught his eye depicted a wolf being brought down by a group of hunters. Further in, there was the distinct sound of water dripping. He thought there might a spring inside the back of the cavern, but he wasn't sure. He'd never been able to get much further than the glowing circle of the fire's light.

And that person stared back at him from across the flames.

Outside, the mountain blizzard howled angrily at the cave entrance as their eyes met.

Her outfit was always the same: soft, black buckskin tunic with long sleeves and a hood and matching boots, with dark leggings that tucked into them. The boots, hood, and sleeves were lined with wolf-gray fur. Wild cobalt hair swirled around her sharp face and shoulders. Well arched brows of a slightly darker color slanted down sharply from her forehead. Her eyes were the color of old gold coins, with narrow, silted pupils, and lined heavily in black kohl pencil. A necklace of teeth and claws hung loosely around her long neck.

She was his zanpakuto, but he didn't know what her name was. He was beginning to think he'd never know.

She also happened to completely and utterly despise him. Her upper lip curled into a nasty snarl, showing him her yellowing teeth and long, deadly canines. "I thought I told you not to come back here, kozo!"

His spine stiffened. "I thought I told you not you call me that, onna."

She grinned at him, more of a baring of teeth and aggression than a sign of goodwill. "Until you give me a reason to show you any respect, I'll call you whatever I like, you little maggot!"

Shoka's fist clenched. "I don't know why you won't help me."

She snorted and glared. "Why should I? You have no love for me. You don't respect me. You don't trust me. You won't listen to my voice, no matter how hard I try to make you hear me. So why should I bother to help you?"

"I'm trying," he insisted quietly, rubbing his temples tiredly. "I'm sorry, onna, but I really am trying my best."

She actually made a sound like a growl, tensing the muscles in her back and arms. "Try harder, kozo! Do you know how long I've had to wait in the silence?" She didn't have to make any gestures or speak any commands: a pair of silver sai with sleek black handles simply appeared in her hands. She leapt at him, jabbing insistently at his vulnerable internal organs. "Your weakness is pathetic, Shokanmaru! I will not tolerate it any longer!"

He used her sealed form to block the sai, but it wasn't possible for someone as inexperienced as he was to block two weapons with only one katana. A big gash opened in his forearm, decorating the stone floor with blood, as primitive as the cave paintings. She snarled and stabbed upward, pointing the sai toward his eyes. "You disgust me, kozo!" He ducked and she scraped his forehead instead of stabbing him through the left eye. "Your fear of your own power – of _my_ power – makes you weak. I will beat it out of you if I have to. I will thrash you until this weakness bleeds out of you."

He gritted his teeth and kept blocking her strikes. Again. Again. Again. Again. Until the cut above his eye actually stopped bleeding and the trail of blood dried on his skin. Sweat dripped from every pore of his body and his muscles began to shake with the effort, but he kept going. The sai sliced right through his pathetic sealed katana, wrenching the weapon from his hands. "You do not deserve a defense," she growled, the sai in her hands moving so quickly they flashed on the firelight. "Until you can hold me without any disquiet in your heart, you do not deserve to carry me!"

She kept attacking, so that he was forced to block using only his hands and forearms. She sliced open his palms and tore through his fingers. She demonstrated the sai's abilities to hold a victim down with the prongs by using his right hand as her demonstration tool. He felt himself slipping away from his inner world, the extraordinary pain bringing him back to consciousness in the real world. His hands were completely mutilated by then, but his broken fingers managed to grasp at her fur lined hood, smearing blood over the grayish-brown hairs. "I'm sorry," he murmured, voice hoarse with pain. "I'm sorry. Forgive me for this one day, onna. Please."

Her hard expression smoothed and even softened very slightly. "A lack of humility was never your problem, Shokanmaru." Her voice sounded very far away, as if she were shouting to him from the bottom of the mountain. "I will see you again, sometime."

He grimaced as he felt the bones in his wrist grinding together. "Promise?"

"Yes, Shoka. I promise."

Misao's face was white as Hachi fixed Shoka's hands and arms. "It's torturing him," she whispered, staring at the exposed bones of her brother's knuckles. "This isn't teaching me anything – it's just torturing him."

"Not torturing," Hiyori said, sneering. "Punishing. This is Shoka's punishment. The zanpakuto will probably start cooperating soon."

To say that zanpakuto were strictly confined to the inner worlds of their masters was not exactly true. There was a vague 'other space' where all spirits were connected, but it was a world only the spirits of the zanpakuto could occupy. This space was barren and gray and currently only held five spirits. Off in the distance, a baboon with a snake for a tail and a young (very beautiful) woman who seemed to be entirely made of snow white were speaking with an older man in a dark robe and sunglasses.

But this small group was not the focus of Shojohime's attention. Her arms were folded across her chest, the patterned sleeves brushing her pale knuckles and trailing down to her bare thighs. Her pink ponytails dropped to the gray floor, standing out against the monochrome landscape. The fifth spirit inside this no man's land stood beside her, surveying the nothingness around them as though it were a battlefield filled with soldiers.

"How is he?" Shojohime asked casually, blinking her pale blue eyes at the spirit beside her.

Eyes the color of gold coins blinked back at her. "He's…very different now. Less troubled. But I'm afraid that our natures no longer suit each other well." Nails like claws pulled back the fur lined hood, revealing a mane of wild cobalt blue hair. "I'm not completely sure that we will be able to survive long. We may end up like Amaterasu and Kanemaru."

"He just needs more time. You've been through worse situations than this before."

"But not with each other. We've always been on the same page before," the other zanpakuto admitted quietly. "He's frightened of his own nature. My nature. Our nature. This has never happened before."

Dryly, Shojohime remarked "You'll have to forgive me if I prefer him this way. The last time we met, you killed us."

"We're sorry." Her golden eyes stared out into the endless gray space that stretched out before them. "He doesn't know, but I know he would want to say it if he did."

"Will you ever tell him what he did?" She was certain she already knew the answer.

"No," the taller woman said harshly. "How could I? The knowledge would almost certainly break him, 'Hime. Tell him that his beloved sister is with him because in his last life, he was responsible for her brutal death? Assuming he trusted me enough to believe me, the knowledge would surely drive him into insanity – if he didn't let the Hollow eat him alive first."

"I am inclined to agree with you." Shojohime said, bowing her head in acknowledgement.

The other woman's lips curled up into a sly smile, baring her slightly yellowed canines. "I see Sakanade has returned to you once again, 'Hime. In what capacity do you work together now?"

"We are not speaking," the pink-haired zanpakuto said coldly. "Or should I say, _I_ am not speaking to _him_. They promised to stay with us and instead, they abandoned us."

"You're still angry with him for that? They sacrificed themselves for you and your master, 'Hime." Shoka's zanpakuto said in a little surprise. "They gave themselves so that you could live."

"They left us alone," Shojohime said sharply, pale eyes flashing along with the diamonds on her nails. "They died and left us alone for nearly _a hundred and fifty years._ She was never happy after they died. Never. You didn't murder us – it was a mercy killing. Misao has made a request to see him. I will speak to him when he reveals himself to her. Not before."

"You're certain he will?" she asked, raising both of her finely arched eyebrows. "Sakanade is known for being less predictable then most."

Shojohime made a sweeping motion with one hand. "Their damnable curiosity has not weakened. I know Sakanade will not be able to resist reaching out to her. How she will take the meeting is another matter entirely."

The sly smile was still there. "They're just the right gender now, Shojohime. And they aren't blood related this time, either. Sakanade promised one day that they would have both of you. Misao is the only one they could never have. She was always taboo to them. Big sister, daughter, best friend – _male_ best friend at that. She's not taboo any more though, is she? How will you keep them from her?"

Stiffly, Shojohime said "I won't. It doesn't worry me. This won't be the first promise to me that Sakanade breaks. Misao is too afraid of their ability to manipulate her emotions and she fears everyone will leave her too much to trust Shinji. Hirako Shinji – that's what he's called now. Shinji and Sakanade won't have Misao this time, either. His presence is of no consequence to me."

The taller woman's grin never vanished. Her bright golden orbs sparkled in a way wickedly reminiscent of a knife blade, the silted pupils like the points of her sai inside her eyes. The heavy black make-up around them only accentuated this. "Just as you say. Why is it you don't want him near her?"

Shojohime's pale blue eyes hardened and again, matched the tips of her diamond nails. "I must protect what is dear to me. Sakanade will never make me forget my loyalty to her. She is what is most dear and I must do what I can to protect her." Her hand came up and played with the necklace of pearls around her throat. "My mistress's fears are hardly unjustified, my friend."

A/N: I originally intended Shoka's zanpakuto to be a man, but I just kept picturing a woman in my mind's eye. My mom suggest making him into a flaming man, but I choose to make a really butch woman instead (not as butch as the female half of Zabimaru, though - she actually has a male name!) I know I didn't reveal her name, but tell me what you think of her!


	13. Denial

Paradox of Nihilism

Denial

On Tuesday, Misao went to school bent on finding a way to get Hirako-san to pull away from her. He was going to have to get the point and fast, or they were both going to be in trouble. Hirako-san didn't seem the type to love a girl for long, so she didn't think it was a good idea to get into the habit of feeding off of his strange adoration of her…even if she did it to Shoka all the time. The difference was, Shoka was never going to leave her. Ever.

So she pointedly shoved his hands off her, kept her expression blank and bored (working especially hard on her mouth), and felt his annoyance and frustration mounting. As Amizu-sensei started their chemistry lecture, he leaned over in his seat. "What's with ya taday? Ya've been in a sucky mood since ya got here. Ya don't got PMS, do ya?"

"I am going to pretend I did not hear you just say that," she answered softly. "So that you can still hold your pen to write your notes."

"As opposed to?" He was baiting her.

She was calm. She was cool. It wasn't going to work. "Breaking your arm, Hirako-san."

During lunch, as always, he tried to trap her in an empty hallway and molest her. She was having none of it. "Hirako-san, why do you feel the pressing need to grab whatever part of my body is nearest? Get therapy. Watch porn. Get a _hobby_ – a hobby that does not involve touching underage girls!"

"Why do ya feel the pressin' need to pretend ya don't like what I do ta ya, Misao-chan?" he countered. Damn it! He had her against the wall. "I can tell ya do. Ya need ta relax, darlin'…"

He tried kissing her. She forced herself to imagine worms. Bugs. Giant crawling spiders. She pushed him away, cringing. "My problem, Hirako-san, is that you're trying to take advantage of my inability to separate our emotions. I don't like it. I don't like _this_," she said, gesturing to the space between the two of them. "I want this to stop, Hirako-san."

"Oh, but I think ya really do like this, Misao-chan. Do ya know how I can tell?" He tugged the gray uniform skirt playfully and she scowled at him. _"Ya haven't done anythin' ta stop me."_

"What are you talking about? I'm doing something right now."

"Those are words, darlin'," he said patiently. "Everyday, ya wear nothin' but skirts an' dresses, even when ya try ta stop me from puttin' my hands under 'em. An' if ya really wanted me ta stop, ya would've told on me. Ya would've told on me if what I do really bothered ya – ta yer teacher. Yer brother."

She glared, actually pissed off at him now. "One, this is a school where skirts are part of the girl's dress code and dresses and skirts make up ninety percent of my wardrobe. Two, the reason that I never told on you was because I thought that I could make you go away. I thought eventually you'd get bored of playing around with a partner who didn't respond to you."

"_A partner who didn't respond?_ Oh, darlin', ya were far from unresponsive yesterday." He was actually laughing at her, the bastard. "I can't cram my own tongue down my own throat, Misao. Although it would pretty impressive if I could – disgustin', but impressive. That was all _you_."

"You sucked me in," she spat coldly. "Your desire sucked me in and made me lose my focus. No more, Hirako-san!"

"Sucked you in?" he repeated in disbelief.

"Yes. You sucked me in. Just like Sagomaru-san sucked me into his nervous breakdown and we both fainted in class. You sucked me into your bedroom fantasy delusions and made me do things that I would not have done under my own power, Hirako-san."

"Oh, get a grip! It was a _kiss_," he snarled back. This argument was going from amusing to annoying.

"This time it was a kiss," she snapped. "Next time it will be our hands down each other's pants. How long will it be until you teach me to _dance_, Hirako-san? More importantly, how will you know I want to? You have the power to rape me and make me _like it_, Hirako-san."

She was honestly surprised that sentence just came out of her mouth, but she knew she was right, damn it! Even if she felt a bit like a jerk for saying that to him. Especially after Shinji's face turned gray like that. He gulped. "Ya-ya know I wouldn't do that if…"

She lifted her chin stubbornly. "It doesn't matter, Hirako-san. I wouldn't be able to tell the difference even I tried. I could hate you with every fiber of my being but when you force-feed me emotions like that, I'd still beg you to do it."

His fingers ran nervously through his hair. "There has to be a way to differentiate Misao. If yer alone…" He saw her make a face that was like a cringe. "Saa, ya don't like ta be alone, ne?"

Misao looked away, keeping her expression blank, placing the coldest façade she could manage over her dispassionate features. It was the sort of expression that could make the air freeze on a hot summer day, until you could see your breath and your hands turned numb. She would never tell him why. She would show him her beautiful Shojohime before she handed him a psychological weapon like that.

"I know why." She looked back at him, surprised and suddenly afraid of the predatory tone in his voice. She recalled her brother's warning about this particular Visored: the Gotei 13 was the military police force for all of Soul Society. Thirteen divisions, thirteen lieutenants, thirteen captains. The captains were the thirteen most powerful beings in the Gotei 13. And this man was once a captain. "Ya hate ta be alone 'cuz there's nobody ta feed off, is there, Misao?"

"Shut up," she whispered, shaking with fear. Her pupils dilated with fear. "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, but I think I do. I think I'm spot on, ain't I, Misao-chan?" he replied meanly. "Ya like ta be alone because ya like havin' someone around ya can feed off. That's why ya'll even be with me before ya stay by yerself. Do ya have any emotions of yer own, Misao? Or do ya just suck them from people around ya?"

She hated how clever and viciously intuitive he could be. "I know what you're trying to do," she whispered, clenching her teeth hard. "It's not going to work, Hirako-san."

"Yer a little leech, ain't ya, Shiori-san? An empty shell that tries ta fill yerself up by stealin' from other people..."

"SHUT UP!" she screamed. She shook with rage and slapped him right across the face, trying to erase that mocking smile from her mind's eye. She lunged at him, pounding his chest with her fists. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! You bastard, you don't know anything!"

Shinji let Misao hit him. He let her because she was sobbing and her fists were no harder than being pelted with a snowball. She collapsed against him, crying like a little girl. He'd done it on purpose and it was cruel of him, but he had to know. He just had to know that she felt something. He'd seen it before, but she was so good at pretending that he just had to make certain she felt _something_. Even if that feeling led to her crying and trying to pummel him with her bare hands. "Shh, koibito. I'm an asshole, I know. I'm sorry. Ya don't have ta be afraid ya don't feel anything, koi. Ya just showed me ya do."

"W-when someone else is w-with me!" she sobbed. She let him hug her and actually hugged him back. "When I'm alone it's em-empty."

"Shh. I'm sure there's a reason fer that." He paused, an idea forming in his head. "I have an idea. Durin' History taday, I want ya ta run out ta the playground an' think about the anger ya felt at me a minute ago. Think about what I said ta ya. If ya still feel empty, then…But I don't think ya will. I think ya'll get angry again. Then come back an' tell me."

She thought about that. "You…you are an asshole, Hirako-san," she agreed weakly. "But you'd better tale good notes for me. The History test is next Thursday."

Shinji laughed and wiped the tears off her face with his sleeve. "I've been alive fer almost five hundred years, darlin'. I _am_ yer history notes."

Misao glanced around the empty playground, watching the empty swings swaying in the breeze. The feeling of…non-existence, of emptiness, was oppressive to her. She was officially alone. She stamped down the hysterical panic that threatened to overwhelm her and instead turned her thoughts to Shinji's suggestion. _"Think about what I said ta ya. I think ya'll still feel angry."_

She mulled that over in her mind for several minutes, sitting on one end of the teeter-totters Indian style. _"Yer a little leech, aren't ya Shiori-san? An empty shell that tries ta fill yerself up by stealin' from other people."_

The acid burn of anger that made her clench her fists actually surprised her. A memory made her feel this potently? She was not accustomed to dwelling on memories, but this could be useful. She tried to make herself feel that potent, soul-encompassing adoration that she felt from Shoka, but curiously, she couldn't come up with it. She felt her own love for him, lurking in the back of her mind like a quiet shadow, but when she tried to recall a specific memory of his great love for her, she couldn't make herself feel it again. She only knew that he had felt that love, but she couldn't reproduce it.

_Very interesting._

"I was still angry," she informed Shinji curtly as she dropped into her seat. Five…four…three…two….one: RING! The bell rang, signaling the beginning of their last class for the day – Japanese.

"I know. I told ya, ya have feelin's. Those don't just go away, Misao-chan."

"But I couldn't feel love…" she mused softly to herself.

"Nani? What was that? I didn't hear ya."

"Love," she said more loudly. At his raised eyebrows, she explained more clearly "I tried to summon the feeling of love I get from Shoka to cheer me up, based on a memory. I couldn't. I imagined the way he pushed me on the swings as a little girl, how his love would surge up inside me, but I couldn't command the feeling to come back. Shoka and I are the perfect match, so I know he loves me, but I can't get it back again."

"So ya only reproduce yer own feelin's when ya think about a memory?" he said thoughtfully.

"I think so, yes," she allowed.

"Well, then, darlin', our problems are solved," he said with a little come-hither smile.

She blinked. "You've lost me, Hirako-san."

He dropped his voice and made sure no one else could see the sly, sexy grin on his face. _No, no, scary. Sly and scary._ "The next time ya can, I want ya ta go somewhere all by yerself." He tugged one of her little rabbit-ear ponytails playfully. "When yer alone, I want ya ta think about a time I touched or kissed ya. Then come back an' tell me how ya felt. If ya never felt nothin', ya can blame it all on me. But if ya felt something'."

"If I do…?" she repeated coolly, arching an eyebrow. _Creepy, not sexy. Creepy!_

"If ya do," he drawled, trailing his fingers down her neck and teasing the neckline of her white blouse. "I want ya ta give me a another kiss, koibito. Without me havin' ta ask ya."

She swallowed, trying not to appear as nervous as she felt. His overlying excitement made that easier. She tried to make her voice cool and steady. "What if I don't want to kiss you, Hirako-san?"

The grin he gave her was so scary/sexy, the corners of his mouth curled upward. "Oh, darlin', ya might be scared ta kiss me, but I know ya wanna."

She tilted her chin up and looked down her nose at him. Apparently, she'd been practicing. It was appropriately haughty. "We'll just see about that, Hirako-san. I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."


	14. Shokanmaru's Tale

Paradox of Nihilism

Shokanmaru's Tale

Misao agreed to play with Mashiro on Wednesday night. She didn't realize that playing with Mashiro was more like 'trying not to let Mashiro kill her'. Shoka and Shinji watched them trade roles, one moment attacking and the next, defending. Shoka observed this with some pride. "Do you think her zanjutsu has improved?" he asked the former captain. "It looks like she's much better than she was."

"She most certainly is," Shinji agreed. "But I don't think zanjutsu is her fightin' style of choice, ta be honest."

"Isn't zanjutsu the old kind of weapon a Shinigami has?" Shoka asked, giving him an odd look.

"Yer forgettin' demon magic," Shinji reminded him with a smile. "The first weapon yer sister ever used was Kido, not her zanpakuto. Do ya know how hard it is ta perform a Hado as hard as Hado #63 – without any practice or trainin'? Misao is a natural at demon magic."

Shoka stared at his sister, who was trying to keep Mashiro from giving her the haircut from hell. She was sweating and panting. "She gets that from our mother. That's where the leather journals of Kido spells came from. Mama wrote it."

He was mildly impressed by that. "All of them?"

"Dunno. How many are there?"

"One-hundred and ninety-eight. One through ninety-nine Hado and one through ninety-nine Bakudo."

"Yeah, they're all in there. Misao only checks the book of Hado, though. I don't think she understands the concept of Bakudo, yet."

"Well, she had talent. That's why she's gonna work with Hachi this weekend."

"That's good," the younger Visored said quietly. "That's very good. Misao…doesn't like being a human. I don't think she ever did. She feels isolated from them because of her empathy, I think. It got worse after Mom and Dad died."

"How did they die?" Shinji honestly meant to ask him this much sooner, but the opportunity never arose. It seemed wrong to ask Misao, somehow.

"A Hollow ate them," Shoka's voice dropped to a whisper and he nervously glanced toward Misao on the field. He wanted to be sure she couldn't hear him. "I would have died, too, but I became a Visored instead."

"It severed yer Chain of Fate." Shinji nodded knowingly.

"Yeah." He swallowed heavily. "And started eating it. The world went…kind of blurry, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up in the hospital and they tell me my parents died and my sister is in a coma."

Shinji worked on making sure no part of his body was visibly tense before saying "Ya killed the Hollow an' started goin' after her, didn't ya?"

He didn't need to feel emotions to feel the shame coming off Shoka in waves. He darted a quick glance toward Misao, but she was still focused on the fight. "Yeah," Shoka repeated. "I did. It's amazing I didn't kill her. But she kept running…"

"Runnin'?"

"Mhm. She's always been a good runner. I made her take track as soon as she started Junior High," he admitted. "It saved her life that night. It's saved her life a lot of nights since then."

For a few minutes, they watched in silence as Mashiro beat the crap out of Misao. She was over thinking the fight, not letting herself work with Shojohime enough for either of their satisfaction. That was going to have to change. A good fighter always trusted their instincts. Quietly, he finally asked "Will ya tell me about the night yer mama an' papa died?"

"The Hollow's name was Waster." Shoka shifted uncomfortably on the warm dirt. "We were just walking…it was a normal night. Nice out. The beginning of summer. It ate Mama before any of us knew what was happening and it started to chew on my Chain of Fate. It nearly ate the whole thing, but Dad took out Amaterasu and beat Waster off of me. Misao was screaming the whole time. When I passed out, I could hear Waster eating Dad. I think Misao saw it…I'm not sure. She won't talk about it. I must've turned into a Hollow before he could eat Misao. I killed him quickly, but the Hollow wasn't satisfied. I – he – we grabbed her by the leg and flung her onto the overpass above us. She hit her head kinda hard, but got back up and kept running."

Shinji nodded. "Then ya got control of yer Hollow an' passed out. That happens a lot when ya accidentally hurt a loved one."

"But I didn't. I leapt onto the overpass and started chasing her again. She ran into the southeast part of town and hid."

"Hid?" Shinji echoed. "Where could she hide that ya didn't find her?"

"Not where – what. It was a culvert. Y'know, those drainage pipes you see in ditches?"

Slowly, Shinji said "Those are too small fer someone ta climb inta. They do that on purpose."

"Not for a small ten-year-old girl. She was scared. She knew that fitting into the culvert meant the difference between living and dying. She squeezed herself as far into the drainage pipe as she could and waited. The Hollow got tired and, eventually, I passed out completely, but she wouldn't leave the ditch. Her head injury made her faint and that's where the ambulance found both of us."

Of course, that was only the part of the story Shoka knew and Misao would tell him. He wasn't able to relate that his sister cried and begged him to stop trying to hurt her. That the drainage pipe was filled with cold water that reached up to her ankles and the sides were covered in slippery moss. That the water was dirty and had trash floating in it and there were bugs all over the inside of the culvert. That she had to curl up in the back of this disgusting swill, terrified of the things both inside and outside the pipe. Her fears of the human world were on the inside – dirt, germs, anything that crawled – and her fears of the spirit world were on the outside – chaos, betrayal, confusion, loss of control.

Misao was just too proud to admit that the day of her parents' death had a drastic effect on her behavior from that day forward.

It was fortunate for Misao that Shinji didn't need to hear these things to know all about her. He didn't know how, exactly, but he could read her. He liked to blame it all on that luscious mouth of hers, revealing so many things to him with just a quick glance. Shinji was well aware that Misao used her little games of do-this-not-that to make her feel in control: safe, secure. He knew it was a way of soothing her deepest fears. Instead of eating, crying, or talking, she bottled herself up inside and clung to her habits like a drowning man clings to driftwood. Yes, drowning was a good description for it. She buried herself in monotony and academic tedium, as though she could prevent catastrophe by walking to school the same way every morning and turning her hands raw with cleaning products. It was a sick sort of game, hopeless and tinged with silent desperation, but it was all she knew to do.

As corny as it sounded, he wanted – and he knew her brother wanted – to give her a real place where she could feel safe. A place where the stability of her emotional health was not dependent on washing her face and hands before bedtime or finishing her homework to perfection.

He wondered what the sound of her laugh was like. If it was weird. Funny. Cute. Musical.

Mashiro giggled happily as Misao was forced to her knees, panting and shaking heavily with exhaustion. She could hardly move, let alone fight. But she had to – she had to keep fighting.

_One day, when you have learned much more, experienced much more, you will not be weak. _Shojohime promised her quietly. _We are too stubborn to be weak, my Misao. But you __**must **__get up again!_

She straightened her small shoulders and used Shojohime to help herself stand again. "Ye lord! Mask of blood and flesh, all creation, flutter of wings, ye who bears the name of Man! Inferno and pandemonium, the sea barrier surges, march on to the south! Hado #31: Shakkaho – Red Fire Cannon!"

The men on the side felt her power building for the spell. Shinji stood up, feeling his blood suddenly run cold in his veins. "Mashiro, get out of the way!" The girl seemed frozen with surprise. "NOW!"

A ball of red energy as large as Misao's whole body was expelled from her hands. Mashiro darted away, appearing behind Shinji himself on the sidelines. "No fair, no fair!" the green haired girl whined. "I didn't know she could do that!"

"She couldn't." The intensity with which Shinji was staring at her actually made her a little uneasy. "Ya've been practicin', haven't ya, Misao-chan?"

Misao swallowed, suddenly recalling her brother's warning about this particular Visored. _"Don't do anything to make Hirako-san – or any of the Visoreds – angry. He was a captain once. That means he can hurt you and I wouldn't be able to even put a scratch on him. All of the Visoreds are dangerous, but he has the greatest reiatsu – even if you can't feel it, I can tell. He's more powerful than the rest. I could probably take any of the others, but not him."_

"Yes, Hirako-san. Since you seemed concerned with my safety I thought it wise to learn more than basic zanjutsu."

He narrowed his eyes at her, their faces only inches apart. "From now on, you'll do it under Hachi's supervision. You could have killed yourself, Misao." He grabbed her arm, applying slight pressure to her wrist. She didn't wince, but it was a surprisingly close thing. "And you will never, _ever_ use a Hado in practice sessions again until I say so."

She nodded to cover up the fact that she was speechless with fear and shock.

Shoka was giving her a pointed stare. _"I wouldn't even be able to put a scratch on him."_

But then she recalled that bleeding cut she made in his side, the first time they sparred together. It eased her fear and humiliation a little bit. _But I can, brother._

She wondered if that made her the strong sibling, or just the stupid one. Misao touched the bandages on her neck, feeling the edges of the white gauze. The bite Shinji gave her was most definitely going to leave a scar. She didn't know how much longer she could conceivably cover it up. She should have just let Hachi fix it when she had the chance. She didn't think the round man would have asked questions about where she got it. _Not that you can't tell exactly whose teeth made them. It's like a fucking sharpie signature on my neck…I'm definitely the stupid one…_


	15. Like A Circle Comes Round

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Just to let you know, I'll be torturing all of you IchiRuki fans with hardcore fluff and angst in this chapter. For the IchiRuki fans, this will be like a mini-nugget of deliciousness. For all others…well, think of it as a brief interlude from the main plot.

Like A Circle Comes Round

A public library was admittedly a rather unusual place for Urahara Kisuke to spend the afternoon. But he was, at heart, a man of science and research. And this would require some research that could only be found on a computer – something the Shoten didn't have as of yet. Perhaps in the next year, he would have one installed.

He flashed a charming smile at the homely little librarian working at the front desk and slipped into the computer lab, quickly shifting through the internet for the information he was seeking.

Shinji's questions about another family of hybrids in Karakura had piqued his interest. Something about the Shiori family…He'd tried to ignore it for several days, but something nagged inside the back of his mind that said he shouldn't ignore it.

After searching the archives of Karakura, the only reference he could find to a Shiori family in the newspaper was the death of a couple in a mysterious car accident. He decided to take a look at the article.

_Couple Dies In Hit & Run, Two Injured – June 5__th__, 2005_

_Early last Friday evening, a young couple was killed and their two children hospitalized in a mysterious hit and run accident. An unidentified driver hit Mr. & Mrs. Shiori, killing them instantly and injuring both children. Shokanmaru, 15, is in recovery and according to the doctors at Karakura General, should wake up soon. His sister Misao, 10, is in a coma but should also recover well. The funeral for Shiori Hisoka and Shiori Kazuko will be this Thursday at noon. Police are still investigating the incident._

_Wait, Shiori_ Kazuko?

A search led to a marriage certificate and two birth certificates – one for 1990 and one for 1995.

The names on the birth certificates matched the names of the children in the news story, as well as their ages. The marriage certificate was signed by Shiori Hisoka and Fuyumi Kazuko in a town about two hundred miles north of Karakura.

_I'll be damned,_ Kisuke mused._ She must have moved back after her parents died. I wonder why she never came back to visit me…Poor kid…I think I preferred believing she was off living somewhere else._

He remembered her as the little girl with the big green eyes who followed her father to his shop and always got the peach-flavored gummy candies. She always had the biggest smile for him, too. "Ohayo, Urahara-san!" she'd call out, waving, her eyes scrunched up happily.

And he would smile back cheerfully, charmed by her dimples and wavy brown pigtails. "Ohayo, Fuyumi-kun!"

She was a sweet kid. It was a shame she had to die so relatively young. But now he had that mystery solved, he only came up with more. Who had killed the Shioris that day? He wondered about the background of Kazuko's husband, too. What kind of man had Kazuko married? Who was Shiori Hisoka?

A database search on his name revealed the same marriage certificate and the same birth certificates, with only one added document – a certificate of adoption. Shiori Hisoka was adopted at birth. Damn. That was basically a brick wall. Being adopted meant that whatever information he could find about the Shiori family probably wouldn't apply to Hisoka. He'd have to enlist Yoruichi to get more advanced information. Oh well…he'd give her that little challenge tomorrow.

"Ta what do I owe this pleasant surprise, Kisuke?" Shinji drawled, digging through the tool drawer. The roof had another fucking hole in it, and guess who got to fix _that_?

"Well, my friend, it seems that I've unintentionally lied to you," Kisuke said cheerfully. "As it turns out, I actually do know something of the Shiori family."

Shinji grabbed a piece of scrap metal and gingerly placed a handful of nails in his mouth at strategic intervals. "Yeah, and wha' would tha' be?"

"Fuyumi Kazuko – the last living member of the human Fuyumi's – became Shiori Kazuko in 1989. She had two kids – a boy and a girl – and died in a car accident nearly six years ago with her husband, Shiori Hisoka."

"Impressive," he muttered through the nails. "But other than their names, I already knew all of this. An' it wasn't a car accident that killed 'em, Kisuke. They were both eaten by a Hollow. I'm kinda lookin' after the Shioris now. Well, Shoka more or less looks after himself – he was the other Visored I was talking about. Misao is a basket case hidden beneath layers of ice an' apathy."

_Somebody has a new little fantasy girl…_

Kisuke raised an eyebrow, but decided not to comment on this just yet. "Two things: one, Shiori Hisoka was actually adopted, so I have no idea who he really is. Two: Fuyumi Kazuko was the daughter of Fuyumi Koga. Your new little girlfriend is the granddaughter of Fuyumi Koga."

"Wha' has tha' gotta do with anythin'?" Shinji snarled, pursing his lips to keep himself from spitting nails. "Tha' doesn't fuckin' help me at all!"

Kisuke's eyes twinkled merrily. "Think about it, sempai – you know this one. Think about it _really_ hard. The topic is the Gotei 13 for two hundred points. Who is the current captain for the tenth division and who is his lieutenant?"

Shinji tapped the sharp nail points against his tongue as he thought about this. "The tenth division captain is…the white-haired boy? The one who doesn't look much older than Hiyori? And the lieutenant…is that goddess with the massive chest!"

"Very good, sempai." Kisuke praised. "Now, keep thinking: for eight hundred points, name the captain and lieutenant for the tenth division – _before_ them."

"Shit!" Shinji swore as he bit down on one of the nails and his gums began to bleed. "Captain Kurosaki Isshin and Lieutenant Fuyumi Koga! Damn it – I'm a god-damned idiot!"

Urahara Kisuke smiled serenely. "The first step is admitting you have a problem, Shinji-sempai!"

"Oh, go ta hell! Find out who Shiori Hisoka's real family were. I know he was at least a hybrid because Shoka an' Misao have mentioned him havin' a zanpakuto. He _has_ some connection ta the spiritual world – I just don't know where the connection is."

"I'll get Yoruichi on it tomorrow," he promised. "Isshin is sometimes tight-lipped, so don't be surprised if he out right stonewalls you if you start asking questions about Koga. But he has to know something. Koga and Isshin stayed in the same town together even after they left Seireitei – in fact, I believe they lived three streets away from each other when Koga died."

Kisuke turned to leave and Shinji yanked him back by the claw of his newly acquired hammer. "Oi, say hello ta Hiyori before ya leave," he snapped. "Or I'll never hear the end of it an' I'll get a sandal in the face ta boot."

"Hai, hai." The shop owner smiled gently. "I'll say hello."

Shinji went over to the Kurosaki household on Friday afternoon when Misao went to help Karin with her home economics project. But to his frustration, Isshin was not home at the time.

Misao was surprised to find that, instead of a bone-deep, aching depression and boiling anger, there was a throbbing sense of peace coming from inside the Kurosaki house. She and Shinji walked into the foyer and she spotted a shirtless Ichigo lying fast asleep on the couch, one arm thrown across his face. Apparently, whatever he was dreaming about had finally made him happy. She stood there, staring at him in speechless shock.

Shinji nudged her. "Hey, don't be checkin' out other guys, darlin'. If ya decide ta become one a' the girls gone wild, I got first dibs."

"I – _no_, absolutely _not_. It's just that he's…he's actually…content. He's peaceful," Misao whispered in amazement, staring down at the redhead in awe. Absently, her hand covered the bandage on her neck and then went over her heart. "It's been years since I was able to come near him without being ill."

"Hey," He squeezed her hand. "In dreams, a man can be an' have whatever he wants. Right now, he's the happiest he'll be fer a long, long time. Possibly forever."

"Hey," Karin greeted them both. Her hands were covered in white flour. "How much do you know about baking?"

"Not as much as Yuzu," Misao allowed. "But I can make sure you don't fail the class."

"That's all I ask." Karin sighed.

As the girls got to work, Shinji sat at a kitchen stool and read directions for them. About halfway through the project (Karin had to make three kinds of pie – sweet, savory, and cold), a young woman in a shihakusho with a katana at her side entered the front door. Karin said nothing as she sat on the floor beside the sleeping Ichigo's head. Her fingers gently skimmed the arm thrown over his eyes. "How is he this week, Karin?"

Misao looked up at her, just a quick, curious glance. Shinji actually looked up and stared. How was it that she couldn't hear it?

Orihime-chan was right – Misao and Rukia's voices were exactly alike (because what other Shinigami girl with dark hair would come visiting Ichigo?). But Misao had the bad habit of sounding like a zombie when she spoke, which could be better or worse for Ichigo's state of mind. Shinji guessed that Misao's voice combined with her manner of speaking probably sounded like Rukia if she were in a deep depression; probably not something Ichigo wanted to hear.

Misao herself didn't seem able to hear the similarity – but then again, most people didn't really know what their own voices sounded like.

Karin glanced over and them and then at Rukia. "Same as last week. He pulled a muscle in his shoulder and had to take a day off from work. He disappeared for a few days last weekend, but he seems no worse than usual. Yuzu says he's finally cleaning his plate instead of sneaking half of it into the garbage. Dad keeps trying to get him to think about career plans, but…"

Rukia sighed and propped her elbow on the coffee table as the fingers of her other hand ran through Ichigo's bright hair. She knew it wouldn't wake him up. He couldn't feel it anyway. He never did. "I've never met a person outside of Ichigo's family or classmates who could see me," she said, actually addressing Misao directly. "Who are you?"

"Shiori Misao," she said simply. "I'm Yuzu and Karin's friend from school. You're the first Shinigami I've seen outside my own family."

"Kuchiki Rukia." Rukia said softly. "Fukutaicho in training for the thirteenth division."

"Ya've been promoted awfully fast." Shinji commented lightly.

Rukia could recognize the Visored. Urahara told her something of the man a few times. "They thought it could make everything better," she said with a disgusted snort. "They thought it would erase what they've done to him."

"Yes," Shinji allowed after a moment. "Yamamoto always seems ta think people will forget their ties ta other people just because he commands it ta be so."

"Something like that." Rukia murmured, shifting to rest her cheek against Ichigo's stomach.

Karin left her alone for the rest of the evening.

All three pies were done and the two girls sat down to survey their handiwork. Three different sat in front of Shinji. "Not bad, ladies, not bad." He pointed a fork to the strawberry pie. "That has the best crust, but I think ya should play with the fillin' recipe a bit. The turkey pot pie is perfect. The French silk pie is good, but the graham cracker crust was a little off. I'd give it…an eighty-nine."

"Yes!" Karin cheered. "That's a B+ – I'll take it!"

As Shinji and Misao left, Rukia was still sitting on the floor beside the couch, her cheek resting on Ichigo's bare side. She cracked an eye open as their shadows passed over her and closed them again with a sigh. Misao was trembling, barely breathing as the door shut behind them. The immeasurable sorrow and strange peace she felt made her want to collapse to her knees.

"I'll race you," Shinji looked over at her, surprised at both the suggestion and the crack he heard in her voice. "I'll…race you b-back to my house,"

He glanced back at the Kurosaki's closed and nodded. "Loser gives the winner a massage," he said with a cheeky grin.

"F-fine," she chokes. "Ready…go!"


	16. The Circle Never Ends

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Ah, more angsty IchiRuki for all my lovely readers. I'm sorry, but it's my favorite pairing and sometimes I just gotta take a break from Shinji and Misao.

The Circle Never Ends

Romeo and Juliet was the classic tragic love story about a young man and young woman who loved each other, but couldn't be together because of the hatred between their families. Some consider it to be the greatest love story of all time. In Kurosaki Isshin's opinion, Romeo and Juliet had nothing on the story of Kurosaki Ichigo and Kuchiki Rukia.

Isshin's son wakes before dinner and eats with them, taking slow, measured bites. The family carries on normal conversation and Isshin and Karin do not mention or stare at the Shinigami sitting on a kitchen stool and watching them fondly.

He knew why she did this to herself, but that didn't make having to watch the two of them any easier.

Rukia followed Karin into her room as Ichigo took a shower. They would talk quietly until he got out of the bathroom.

Ichigo slipped into his pajamas and gave his bed a despairing look. He hadn't been sleeping well on the bed, but the nap he had on the couch this afternoon was fucking fantastic. With a shrug, he quietly told his father – who was sitting at the kitchen table by himself and sipping coffee, of all things – that he was sleeping on the couch tonight. The older man stared into his coffee and gave a noncommittal nod. He also watched Rukia get up from the table and follow him.

Ichigo fell asleep sitting up in the corner of the couch, his long legs propped up on the coffee table. He didn't even feel the arm draped across his abdomen, the thin figure pressed against his side, or the cheek on his shoulder. But he did know that he went out like a damn light.

Isshin saw Rukia cuddled against Ichigo like a mouse under a tree in a storm. He sighed deeply and sat on the coffee table next to his son's outstretched legs. "You shouldn't do this to yourself, Rukia-chan." He kept his voice low. He already knew how hard it was for Ichigo to get some sleep. And it would be rather awkward to explain why he was speaking to an empty space beside him in the dark. "It's not good for your health."

She nuzzled Ichigo's sleeve sleepily. "I don't care," she murmured truthfully, breathing in his scent. She could feel her muscles relax even more just from that. "I don't care…"

Isshin sighed again and ruffled her hair. "Your brother is worried about you, kid." She opened her eyes in surprise and he scoffed at the face she made. "Oh, don't look so shocked. You don't really think he bought those excuses you were feeding him, did you? I had to reassure him you weren't running off to hand your powers to some other witless, unsuspecting human. He's worried you've become a little…reckless."

That was putting it nicely. The word Byakuya had actually used – at the top of his aristocratic voice, no less – was 'suicidal'.

Rukia huffed and breathed in more of the boy beside her. "I just can't seem to walk away from him…"

At night when she tried to sleep, the bed never seemed warm enough – no matter what she tried, no matter how many blankets she piled on the bed. She was just so cold all the time. Without him, she couldn't get warm again.

"I understand," Isshin said quietly. He motioned to his son's sleeping form. "He can feel you, you know."

It was her turn to scoff this time, snorting sadly at that notion. "No he can't." To demonstrate, Rukia grabbed Ichigo's arm and squeezed it hard, hard enough that he would normally cry out in pain – or, at least, awaken. "See? I could probably punch him in the face and he wouldn't feel it."

"Not his body, Rukia. His soul. His heart still feels you." He pointed to the peaceful face of his only son. "He would be scowling in his sleep if you weren't here. I know it hurts you – it hurts him, too. But I promise you that a part of him still feels you here with him."

It was a small consolation and he knew it.

But it was consolation nonetheless.

"Thank you, Kurosaki-san."

"You're welcome, Rukia-chan." He grunted in pain as he stood again, his joints popping in protest against the movement. He turned the light out in the kitchen and climbed back up the stairs. Days like this made him feel exactly as old as he was. And that was very, very old.

On the other side of town, Misao flipped to the harder Hado section, despite Shinji's earlier warning. Practicing was one thing, but she just wanted to see the advanced spells. There was no harm in that – right?

She never did read Hado #99 – because the writing on the opposite page caught her eye.

_From Mama – In Case of Emergencies  
>Mama has tried to shelter you from the spiritual world until you were old enough, but just in case I can't, I've left some names and addresses of people I knew who can help you and Papa left his savings in the tuxedo he wore at our wedding.<em>

Below the note were the names of four people

_Urahara Kisuke__  
>Urahara Shoten<br>Karakuracho  
>-He used to be a scientist, but now he owns this shop. He knows a lot of information about a lot of subjects, so if you have questions, or need someone to explain your powers to you, you should see him first.<em>

_Shihoin Yoruichi__  
>(I don't know her address or location, but I'm sure Urahara will if you need to see her immediately. She may even be with him at the Shoten. She tends to switch locations a lot.)<br>-She used to work in Black Ops. I think she still does. She knows a lot of history and has contacts with a lot of people, so you should ask for her first if you get into a lot of trouble._

_Ishida Ryuken__  
>Karakura General Hospital<br>Karakuracho  
>-Ishida-san doesn't like Shinigami much, so I wouldn't go to him unless there is no one else left to help you.<em>

The last name made her mouth drop open in shock.

_Kurosaki Isshin__  
>Kurosaki Clinic<br>Karakuracho  
>-Isshin-san used to work with your grandfather, but I still don't quite know what that means. He's a doctor now – in fact, he delivered both of you. He's well thought of by a lot of people, but he lost his reiatsu somehow a long time ago.<em>

_Love, Mama & Papa_

She wanted to go down the list right at that moment. She would go see 'Urahara Kisuke' this weekend. She wanted to know why these people were on a list her mother made for a time when everything went wrong. She didn't need Shinji to spoon feed every piece of information to her, either – she was going to do this all on her own.

Kido practice with Hachi wasn't as hard as she thought it would be – certainly more enjoyable than going over her zanjutsu with one of the others. Hachi complemented her natural talent. "You seem to have an affinity for offensive Kido, Misao-san. You're struggling a little with Bakudo, though."

She shrugged and explained "I don't really want to bind or block. I just want to get the fight over with and beat my enemy as quickly as possible."

"Yes, I can see how that kind of thinking would make you more inclined to using Hado and even zanjutsu, rather than Bakudo. We'll have to wait and see how your Shunpo training goes. You don't really have the kind of strength for Hakuda, but I'm sure Kensei and Mashiro will want to check your potential, anyway."

"Hakuda? Shunpo?"

"Hakuda is hand-to-hand fighting. You don't have much interest in that, do you? No, I didn't think so. Kensei and Mashiro are considered Masters of Hakuda. Shunpo are flash steps. It's a Shinigami technique that allows you to move very quickly, in bursts of blinding speed. It's not particularly hard to learn if you are diligent. We don't have a Master of Shunpo here, but most of us are at expert level. Shinji will probably teach you in a few months. It will be impossible to beat any of us until you've learned it – it will be impossible to beat almost anyone but an unseated officer without it."

"Unseated officer?" What she liked most about Hachi was that he actually took the time to explain things to her without making her feel stupid.

"Soul Society's military power is the Gotei 13 – thirteen divisions, each headed by their own captain. Did you already know this?"

"Yes, Shoka explained this part already."

"Besides the captain, there is a lieutenant below them, and below them, there are eighteen seated officers, three through twenty. These are the twenty most powerful people within each particular division. Once your brother gets himself together, he could easily be lieutenant or captain class," Hachi said matter-of-factly. "And so can you."

Misao shook her head. "No, Shoka says those are the best of the best. I'm not even good yet."

"He didn't say ya were there right now," Shinji interrupted, plopping down to watch the rest of her Kido lesson. "But if ya work hard, one day ya may even put me on my ass."

Misao snorted, mumbling "You are an ass. How could I put you on it?"

He grinned. "The point is, Hakuda, Hoho, Kido, and Zanjutsu are the four main tools a Shinigami has. If you only became a Master of one of these, you can make at least lieutenant class."

As Shinji walked her home, Misao received a text from her brother telling her he would be late and that she should stay with the Visoreds. She ignored the message and said goodbye to her blond stalker at the door. She concentrated on memorizing the address of Urahara Shoten to keep herself from panicking at the sudden deadness of the space around her. Even so, she paced back and forth as she waited for Shinji to disappear from the block, for his reiatsu to fade away. As soon as he did, she bolted from the house, running down the block so she could feel some human presence. She sighed in relief as she felt annoyance, giddiness, and anger flood her at the first intersection she reached. She needed to know that the world around her.

The Urahara Shoten wasn't all that far from her house. It was easily identifiable by the large sign out front that said "Urahara Shoten". There was no one in front, so she stepped inside the dimly lit store, where there was a very large man with a mustache manning the counter. "Can I help you?"

"Um, yes, I'm looking for, um, Urahara Kisuke…and Shihoin Yoruichi?" Misao said, tugging at her skirt nervously. She fingered the gauze over her neck and tried not to look as apprehensive as she felt.

The man turned and called into the back. "Boss, Yoruichi-san, there's someone here to see you."

"Tell him I've already asked Yoruichi to look into…it. Oh! What a pleasant surprise!" A blond man wearing a green-and-white striped hat, green coat, and traditional sandals looked at her in slight astonishment. Then his face spread out into a wide smile. "What can I do for you, young lady?"

"I'm Shiori Misao. How did you know my mother?"

"That's simple, Shiori-kun," Urahara said, beaming. "She used to be a customer of mine. When she was a little girl, her father would take her here nearly every day. And she always bought the same sweet."

"A note from my mother said that if I were ever in trouble, I should come here and ask for Urahara Kisuke and Shihoin Yoruichi."

"What was that?" A gorgeous woman with chocolate skin, deep purple hair tied back into a ponytail, and golden eyes entered behind Urahara. She was wearing a tank top with no bra and a pair of underwear. "I heard my name, so what do…oh. You must be the Shiori's daughter."

"How did the two of know my parents?" Misao demanded. "How do you recognize me?"

"We didn't know your parents," Yoruichi said, casually taking a bite of an apple in her hand. She completely ignored the second question. "We knew your mother. The spirit world inside the realm of the living is relatively small, so most people are interconnected in order to survive, kid."

Yoruichi decided not to mention that the reason they recognized her was that they were shifting through pictures Shinji brought them of the Shiori family.

Urahara's eyes were narrowed thoughtfully. "Yes, what's more unusual is that no one seems to know your father…"

"He was adopted." Misao replied automatically, making the other two immediately raise their eyebrows.

Yoruichi looked amused. "I find it hard to believe that your father never bothered to find out who he was – who his real parents were."

"I don't think it really mattered to him after he met Mama," Misao said, looking at the ground. "I don't know anything about it. It doesn't matter much now, does it?"

Urahara seemed surprised by that. "You're not curious to find out about your father family, Shiori-kun?" he asked, peering into her blank face. "You could have grandparents who would like to meet you. Aunts, uncles, cousins…"

Misao snorted, rubbing her neck bandage. "I doubt it. Thanks anyway, Urahara-san." She looked at the aisles of sweets and strangely named objects around her. "I may come back here sometime."

"You do that, Shiori-kun," Urahara gave her a charming, placid smile. "Do you require the kind of assistance your mother urged you here for?"

"Nani?" she asked, looking both startled and confused.

"The bandage on your neck, Shiori-kun. It looks like you were attacked by something. Do you require assistance from either Yoruichi-san or myself?" The inquiry was polite enough, but his gray eyes peered at her intensely. With that look, she believed her mother's words.

This man would help her if she needed it – with violent means, if necessary.

She flushed with embarrassment. "O-oh, no. No, Urahara-san. Thank you for asking anyway."

Yoruichi inspected her fingernails idly. "You can come back here anytime, kid. Kisuke and I remember your mama with a lot of fondness. Anything you need – come see us again." Misao nodded and turned away. Yoruichi waited until the girl's reiatsu faded into the background before speaking. "Think she knows something about Hisoka?"

"Probably. It's hard to tell with the poker face she can put on. Misao doesn't look much like her mother."

"I agree. You want me to get her to talk?" The cat-woman grinned wickedly. "I haven't lost my touch, Kisuke."

He chuckled. "I know you haven't. But judging from what I can read off Shinji, that would be a good way to send him into Hollowfrenzy."

Yoruichi eyebrows shot up past her bangs. "Hirako? And the girl? You're serious? The Visoreds hate all Shinigami, Kisuke – except you. And you don't exactly count."

"Love is a strange thing, Miss Yoruichi." Kisuke waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "And you forget that Shiori-kun's brother is apparently a Visored, too. That probably softens their opinions of her quite a bit. It probably softens her opinions of them quite a bit, too."

"Where do you think she got that injury from?"

"I can't say," Kisuke said softly. "I'm quite sure Shinji will have already taken care of it."

Misao let herself race home, let her loneliness be drowned in the feel of her legs moving smoothly across the pavement. The rapid, measured in and out of her lungs. Her muscles shifting in ways familiar and easy to her. Yes. Running was just another method of beating away an undesirable thought, feeling, or sensation – just like cleaning or beating herself down with routine. It was an escape.

In one smooth motion, she unlocked the door, kicked her shoes off, and began yanking her clothes off as fast as she could. She needed a shower – right now. So she could peel off a layer of skin or five. Misao didn't like having to talk about her father to that man – a stranger who only knew her mother.

She switched the faucet on the shower to the hottest setting. All the better to peel off that pesky skin, flesh, and all necessary internal organs with. By herself, Misao was able to think about one of the many things she'd been trying to avoid for the past five years: her father.

Shiori Hisoka was a generally quiet and calm individual, and although she didn't know it, he rarely smiled. She didn't know that, because when he was around his children, Hisoka smiled constantly. His zanpakuto was called Amaterasu. He smelled like lemon and something else that was green and herbal. If she closed her eyes, she could hear his laughter.

"_Papa, what's a zom-bie?" Misao asked, tugging her father's sleeve._

_He made himself smile at her until the corners of his eyes crinkled. "It's what Shoka looks like when he wakes up in the morning," Hisoka said, laughing. "It's a creature in horror movies with a funny walk. Why?"_

_Misao frowned unhappily, tugging his sleeve harder. "Papa, the kids at school called me zombie-girl. Why, Papa? Do I walk funny?"_

_He tugged her pigtails fondly. "No, bunny." That was what he called her – it was because the ponytails her mother put in her hair made her look like a flop-eared rabbit. "You walk just fine. Ignore them," he whispered, grabbing her and putting her on his lap. He kissed her cheek and gave her a gentle squeeze. "They're just jealous because I have the cutest bunny of all!"_

She smiled into the scalding water, her tears mixing in with the rush from the showerhead. She could vividly recall how happy she was to be near him. How gentle and calm her father was. How much she loved him.

Misao scrubbed the shampoo from her hair fiercely, until her scalp was red, and used the loofa to scrape every inch of her skin until she was scarlet all over. Only then was she satisfied enough to shut the water off. She looked in the mirror and grimaced. Her eyes were almost as red as her skin from crying.

The oppressive emptiness inside the house had not lifted, so Shoka was still not there.

She stared at her bedroom ceiling as she lay on the floor, with her wet hair spread over a towel. She didn't want to think about this anymore. It was filled with the kind of pain that could destroy her carefully planned and constructed life – something Shinji was already trying to as much as possible on a daily basis.

Shinji.

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and decided to call his bet. If she wall repulsed by him, that would be his problem, not hers. Then he'd leave her the fuck alone. She breathed out slowly. She wasn't a coward – she would just…do it.

"_Kiss me, koibito."_

Misao sat up abruptly, feeling heat blossom fiercely inside her body. _Oh my god – I want him! I want that creepy, grabby, five-hundred-year old stalker!_

She shook her head vigorously, so sure that it couldn't be true. Instead, she called up the memory of their first kiss, so sure that she would be disgusted. The man had bit her hard enough to leave a noticeable scar, after all.

_Shinji's mouth came down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Strong teeth sank into the flesh hard – hard enough to leave evidence. The hand in his hair tightened, long nails scraped his scalp, and Misao cried out into the stark space of the white, cold office._

Her breathing was ragged as the raw feeling of desire tore her to pieces – as easily as Shinji tore her neck open. And then on the way to the café, he helped her to hide it and promised to let her see Sakanade one day. They way he looked at her when they walked back home that day had made her heart ache so painfully. He'd looked…concerned. For her. As though he wanted to wipe away anything that could harm her.

Warmth, sweet and bitter at the same time, speared through her chest like a sword.

"Oh my god."

Shinji wasn't in love with Misao

Misao was in love with Shinji.


	17. Eyes, Part One

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Forgive me for making Momo seem a little nuts in this chapter, but I don't think the things Aizen did to her will disappear in the course of a few months. She also made a handy little plot device. I do love Momo, though.

And I will admit right now that Hisoka's parentage is closely linked to someone inside Bleach. But I'm reasonably sure no one will ever be able to guess who it is.

Eyes, Part One

Yoruichi had searched high and low for any information about Shiori Hisoka's life before meeting his wife Kazuko. At birth he was adopted by the Shiori's – Shiori Hakuji and Shiori Yumi. They had a daughter sixteen years after his birth named Rie and divorced each other shortly after she was born. From what she could tell, Hisoka didn't seem to get along with his adoptive father well. Yumi gained sole custody of him and joint custody of Rie. Yumi died of cancer when Hisoka was twenty and Hakuji died in a car accident just a year before Hisoka and Kazuko's death.

His little sister Rie was still alive and lived in Kyoto now. She would actually be closer in age to her nephew Shoka than to her brother Hisoka. She was also the only person Hisoka had in his adoptive family that was still alive. Which meant that Yoruichi had a trip to Kyoto scheduled in her near future.

Yoruichi wondered if Misao had kept them from knowing about Rie on purpose or if she was truly unaware of her existence.

She got off the ten-thirty train and headed for the correct apartment address, then knocked on the door and waited patiently. "Just a minute," a musical voice called. The door opened and a radiantly smiling woman greeted her. "Hello! Did you need something, Miss-?"

She had intensely deep brown eyes and long, sleek black hair held up with a pair of chopsticks, and a beautiful face. She was also just beginning to show her pregnancy.

"Yoruichi. Shihoin Yoruichi. I'm looking for Shiori Rie."

Even her laughter was musical. Yoruichi half-expected to feel some kind of reiatsu emanating from her, but there was nothing. She was an ordinary human being. "It's Nato Rie now. What can I help you with? Please, come in and have a seat."

Rie led her into the apartment's kitchen and gestured at the seat across from her.

"I'm here about your late brother, Shiori Hisoka. Can you tell me anything about him?"

"I'm afraid not," she said honestly. Her expression became serious. "Onii-san and I weren't very close. He was already halfway through high school when I was born and he moved away after graduation to go to college. I don't think I even recall meeting him in person until he graduated college when I was six or seven. But I can try to help. What was it you wanted to know?"

"I assume you realize that your brother was actually adopted, correct?"

"It was kind of obvious," Rie admitted. "Onii-san was always a little…different."

"I was wondering if your parents might have told you anything about Hisoka's biological family?" Yoruichi inquired.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you that," she said, looking away. "I was told only to give that information to his children."

"Then we'll both be very happy, Rie-san, because I'm working on behalf of Hisoka's two children." Yoruichi said, taking the picture from her pocket. She sent silent thanks to Kisuke and Lisa, who'd spent the greater part of a weekend sneaking and copying pictures from the Shiori's house and personal photo albums. "The young man is Shokanmaru and the girl is Misao."

"Yes, I remember their names." Rie's eyes softened subtly as she looked at the fairly recent photograph. "Oh, yes. Those are definitely Onii-san's children. They have his eyes…The girl looks just like him…" Despite their lack of closeness, Rie apparently remembered Hisoka with some fondness. "His eyes were just that color and they looked just that way, too. Like…like a pair of marbles, you know? All glassy…"

Yoruichi politely looked away as Rie reached up to wipe the small tear from the corner of her eye. "Can you now give me the information you have about Hisoka's biological parents?"

Rie got up from her chair. "I can't actually tell you myself, because I promised my mother that I wouldn't look inside it." She walked into her bedroom and opened her jewelry box. It was all by itself, the key hanging from a silver chain. She went back out to the kitchen and handed Yoruichi the chain, then went to the closet and took out an old-fashioned scarlet brocade box with a lock on it. "Tell them everything they want to know inside here. I don't think it's ever been opened – Okaa-san said Onii-san left the box with her when she tried to give it to him. He told her he didn't want her to know. She kept it so that if they ever wanted to know, his children or grandchildren could find out who they really were. She left it with me because she was afraid Onii-san would destroy it, I think."

Yoruichi's eyes glittered as she took the box. "Domo arigato, Rie-san. May I take a picture of you for them?"

"That would be wonderful! And may I keep the picture you gave me?" she asked eagerly.

Yoruichi thought it very unlikely, given Misao's reaction to the suggestion of distant relations, that either her niece or nephew would ever come visit her. Whether to protect her for her own safety or just because they considered her a complete stranger, she didn't know. So she said "Yes" and snapped the picture. Who knew? It was possible they would be ecstatic for an aunt – related or not.

Rie was still smiling when Yoruichi left. She sat in the kitchen chair and looked down at her slightly distended stomach thoughtfully. "You know, I think I like the name Hisoka…"

Kisuke though it extremely unlikely it was that Rie would have any leads for them to go off of. "Did you find anything in Kyoto?"

Yoruichi handed him a scarlet brocade box with a look on it. She also dangled the key on its chain in front of him with a cocky grin. "According to Nato Rie, whatever we need to know about Hisoka is in this box."

"Let's take a quick look then, shall we?" He placed the key in the lock and it opened with a 'click'.

As it turned out 'a quick look' was virtually impossible. The brocade box was filled nearly to bursting. Yoruichi looked a little uneasy. "This looks like a lot, Kisuke. Are you sure…?"

"More sure than ever," Kisuke said grimly. "Shiori Hisoka has a connection to Soul Society – even Seireitei itself. It's Shinji's belief that he was a hybrid like Kazuko – those don't just pop up out of nowhere. He had to have one Shinigami parent and one human parent."

Yoruichi huffed irritably and scratched the back of her neck. "So for all we know, Shoka and Misao could be the grandchildren of Sosuke bloody Aizen."

Kisuke groaned and rubbed his temples. "Please don't talk like that. Neither of them deserves that kind of stigma."

"But it's true. We know nothing of Hisoka's lineage."

"In the event that horrible prediction comes true," Urahara grumbled. "I vote we destroy the evidence and _I'll_ claim to be Shiori Hisoka's father."

That made Yoruichi laugh – loudly. She spent a good fifteen minutes clutching her stomach as she howled in laughter, gasping as she tried to catch her breath. "Besides the fact that _nobody_ who actually knows you would believe that, you don't look anything like Shiori Hisoka, Kisuke. In fact, you look more like Kazuko than Hisoka. No one would buy that story."

"It would be better than telling everyone he's the son of Aizen."

"No arguments there."

"Tell me why we're goin' over ta Karin an' Yuzu's again?" Shinji asked idly.

"Shoka says I have to stop going to the café because the caffeine has been making me too jittery to sleep at night," she said blandly. "Ichigo-san isn't there today anyway. Yuzu said he has to go to work today or his boss lady will fire him permanently. He needs the money, so he had to go."

"So we're goin' ta Karin and Yuzu's." he concluded.

She wondered when he was going to mention that stupid bet again, but prayed that it really had slipped his memory.

Rukia was already there when they came in today. She sat at one of the kitchen stools with her head in her hands. Yuzu was the one talking to her. "How are Kiyone and Sentaro taking your instatement as the new lieutenant?"

She rubbed her eyes tiredly and said "Poorly at first, but then Ukitake-taicho yelled at them. He said their antics and constant competition with each other immediately eliminated from the consideration and that no captain in their right mind would have recommended either of them for a promotion. I've never seen him get so stern with someone. They're trying to find a new captain for your old division, Hirako-san."

"Oh?" Shinji said lightly.

"The current lieutenant – Hinamori Momo – can't handle the stress of all the extra legwork and paperwork anymore. Kiyone said she almost had a complete nervous breakdown last month. Kira and Hisagi seem to be doing fine, but Hinamori just can't take the strain anymore. What with Aizen tormenting her and being hospitalized twice, she can't take it."

Yuzu made a noise of sympathy.

"Have they picked out any candidates?" Karin asked.

"They keep asking Ikkaku to fill one of the captaincies, but he keeps telling them to go to hell," Rukia informed them, a little smirk of amusement curling her lips. "So far, they haven't gotten anywhere in their search. Until they do, Hinamori will just have to cope with the responsibility. Frankly, I'm surprised she managed this long without saying anything."

In the sixth division barracks, Renji say in his room with his head in his hands. He didn't know this would happen – he wouldn't have agreed to it if he had.

Kuchiki-taicho had recommended him for a promotion, with the joint approval of six other captains – Ukitake-taicho, Unohana-taicho, Komamura-taicho, Zaraki-taicho, Hitsugaya-taicho, and Kyoraku-taicho. Hinamori had responded favorably to the idea of him working over her as her captain. He wanted to tell Rukia of his promotion. He knew she would be proud of him, happy for him – until the message came.

Renji was required to inform Miss Rukia Kuchiki that she was being transferred. Rather than being the new fukutaicho of the thirteenth division, Rukia was replacing Renji himself to serve under her brother. Her promotion to fukutaicho had been against her brother's wishes in the first place. Apparently Byakuya had decided that if she were going to risk her life in a lieutenant's position, she was going to do it where he could see her.

In Renji's opinion, this was actually a fairly good plan. But he wasn't entirely sure that this was what Rukia herself wanted. A soft knock interrupted his train of thought. "Konbanwa." Hinamori Momo poked her head into the doorway. She gave him a bright smile. "I came to ask if you needed anything, Abarai-k, I mean, Abarai-taicho."

Renji sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to come with me to the living world?" he asked after a moment. "I have an important message to deliver that can't wait."

She was a little perplexed by this, but eager to please her new captain. After all, this was the man who was going to save her life and her sanity. "O-oh, okay. I'll come with you."

He opened the Senkaimon after giving instructions for his belongings to be moved into the fifth division's captain's barracks, and he and Momo entered the gate. "If it's not too forward, Abarai-k – Abarai-taicho, why do we need to deliver this message? If-if you don't mind my asking…"

Renji sighed again. He would have to remember to tell Momo the rules about their new professional relationship later. She didn't need to bother with this 'Abarai-taicho' business all the time. 'Abarai-kun' or just 'Renji' would do just fine and she didn't have to be so deferential to him all the time. She didn't have to worship him like she worshipped Aizen. That didn't work for him and it obviously hadn't worked for her in the past. "Kuchiki-fukutaicho is being reassigned to a new division. She's been ordered to fill my old position in the sixth division under Kuchiki-taicho. I am to give her these new orders ASAP."

Hinamori's face showed a stunned surprise. "Oh…"

"She's at the Kurosaki house," he said with grim surety.

Momo looked down at her hands. "I believe you," she whispered.

At the door to the Kurosaki's house, Renji held out an arm in front of Momo, blocking her entry to the house. "There are a pair of unfamiliar reiatsu in this house," she said softly, picking up on the reason for his warning. "And one is very, very powerful. The other is nearly swallowed by it."

He nodded and Momo put her right hand on the hilt of Tobiume.

Shinji was the one who opened the door for them. He and Renji sized each other up for a minute before Shinji said "Are ya here fer Kuchiki-san?"

"I have a message for her that couldn't wait."

Karin's irritated voice cut through. "Oh, for god's sake Shinji let him in. It's just _Renji_."

"Oh, ya know this red-headed punk? Come in then." He grinned at Hinamori as she walked in ahead of Renji. "An' who's this?"

"Hinamori Momo," she replied, giving him a small, polite bob. "Lieutenant of the fifth division."

Misao told herself that she was not jealous of the drawl in Shinji's voice. She told herself she had no reason to be jealous because she was better than that. Misao wasn't very good at lying to herself.

Rukia looked rather unsurprised to see him, but slightly surprised to see Momo. "Did Nii-sama send you to drag me back to Seireitei?"

"Yes and no," Renji said solemnly.

His unusually serious tone of voice made Rukia sit up straighter. "Nii-sama is okay, isn't he? He's not hurt, is he?"

"No, no – I mean, yes, yes. He's fine. It's nothing like that. Rukia, I'm gonna be the fifth division's new captain."

She stared in wide-eyed shock, realizing the significance of Momo's presence. "Oh! C-congratulations, Renji! I'm glad."

He smiled back, happy that he'd managed to get a genuine smile out of her for the first time in months. Then he remembered that he was required to tell her about the other half of this errand. "Uh, yeah, it's great, isn't it? Uh, except that…they're making me inform my replacement of their immediate transfer."

"So who's replacing you?"

"You."

Her frozen expression killed him, it really did. "M..m…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know Kuchiki-taicho would do – "

"Thank you."

"-this. I-wait, what?"

"Thank you, Renji. This will give me an opportunity to prove myself to Nii-sama." She smiled up at him sadly. "And I think it will help to reassure him that I'm not trying to kill myself."

Engrossed in this conversation as they were, neither of them noticed that Momo hadn't been paying attention to a word they were saying. She was too focused on the young woman with dark hair sitting next to Ichigo's sister.

Renji patted Rukia's shoulder. "Well, he won't say anything if you aren't back right away, but try not to spend the night this time, okay? The servants up at the manor were saying last week, he was biting off all of their heads and nearly killed three people – including me. Let's go, Hinamori."

Momo stirred slightly at the sound of her name being uttered, but didn't take her eyes away from Misao. Shinji stared at her suspiciously, one hand inside his pocket and grasping the little bottle of soul pills there.

"Hinamori? Momo?"

"Who are you?" Hinamori's normally soft brown eyes stared into Misao's flat gray-green ones with surprising intensity and fervor. "I've seen your face before…who are you?"

"Shiori Misao," the other girl said quietly. "And I know I've never seen you before."

"No." Momo shook her head. "I know I've seen your face. It's familiar to me. Isn't it? Isn't her face familiar, Abarai-kun?"

He knew she had to be out of it not to address him with his new title. She was so conscientious of that kind of thing, normally. Renji only gave Misao a fast glance, more worried about Hinamori's mental stability than the strange girl's resemblance to someone they might know. Although he did find it rather odd that she and Rukia had the same voice, her manner of speaking was totally different. "Yeah, I guess she does," he said carelessly. "Come one, Hinamori, it's time for us to go back home."

"I'm not crazy!" Momo shrieked insistently, a hint of wild panic in her gaze. "She does, Renji, she does! _Look at her!_"

This time he actually did look. And something immediately stirred inside him. A faint recognition that made the inside of his skull start to itch. She did look like someone they both knew. But who? The jawline and cheekbones were right, the nose identical – it was only the eyes and mouth that were any different. But any different from who? Whom did she resemble? Like a hamster on a wheel, his mind scurried frantically for a few moments before he made himself calm down. "It doesn't matter, Hinamori," he finally said sternly. He was a captain now. It was time to behave like it. "I agree with you, but it doesn't matter. We have to go – _now_."

She responded to the command his voice carried, her legs moving automatically toward the door.

Rukia was looking at Misao closely now. "You do look like someone I've met, now that Hinamori pointed it out," she agreed reluctantly. "But I couldn't really say offhand who it is, either."

Shinji watched the way Misao's mouth twitched, twisting just for a moment with anxiety. This worried her. "I'm sure I've never met them before," she deadpanned. "And my parents never had any contact with other Shinigami."

Of course, now Misao wasn't entirely sure that was strictly true anymore. Shinji desperately hoped that Kisuke had found something – before Abarai-taicho and Hinamori-fukutaicho got the idea to begin an investigation on Shiori Misao.

Urahara sneezed as he lifted the stacks of papers and folders from the brocade box. "Careful. Who knows how long this stuff has been here?"

He began flipping through one of the folders and stopped, suddenly going very still. "Yoruichi, look at this." He pointed to the woman in the photograph he was holding. "Does she remind you of someone?"

Yoruichi held a breath as her eyes took the young lady in. "That's got to be her." The color was green and not gray, but the flat glassy quality of her eyes was unmistakable. "That has to be Hisoka's mother."

A graceful signature identified the person beneath the snapshot.

_Midono Etsuko, Your Mother_


	18. Eyes, Part Two

Paradox of Nihilism

Eyes, Part Two

Kisuke and Yoruichi spent the greater part of the day sorting through notes, letters, documents, and photographs. It was really very fascinating, once one got past the idea that Hisoka was dead and had lived out the course of his relatively short life without knowing what was inside it. There were three piles of photographs, one of people they did not have the time to identify just yet, one of Hisoka, and one of Hisoka's apparent mother, Etsuko. Yoruichi was bent over two of these piles, scanning the faces of these family members furiously. "Kisuke, we have a problem."

"Which one?" Kisuke murmured examining a letter from Yumi she'd placed in the box before her death. In general, it told the reader that she loved Hisoka and never regretted taking him in, and that he was the son of her best friend in high school, Miss Etsuko Midono.

"Etsuko and Hisoka don't look a thing like each other, Kisuke. Their eyes are the same, but they don't have any similar facial features." She pointed at the chin and jaw, the mouth, the nose. "Whoever Hisoka's father is, he totally dominated his son's genes."

"It's fairly safe to say that Aizen probably isn't his father, then." Kisuke commented lightly. "I think we'd be able to immediately recognize that much of a resemblance between them. Oh, hang on a second…"

He leaned over and picked up a photo from the third pile. In black and white and looked older than any of Etsuko's pictures.

_Midono Kiyoshi, Your Grandfather_

Slowly, Yoruichi said "Kisuke, where are the pictures of Shoka and Misao?"

"Here." He handed her and small stack.

She shifted through them until she found a picture of each of them alone, looking directly into the camera like Kiyoshi and Etsuko. "Kisuke," Yoruichi murmured. "Why do they all have such glassy eyes?"

He studied the four photographs uneasily. "They're looking straight into the camera, so maybe it's the effect of the flash lighting off their eyes."

"No," she said firmly. "Misao's eyes had that same appearance when we met her and Rie said that was what immediately identified them as Hisoka's children. She said his eyes always looked like marbles and not eyes. So what is it that makes them look this way? Kiyoshi had it, Etsuko had it, Hisoka had it, and now Shoka and Misao have it."

"I think we may have stumbled on to something bigger than just a hybrid," Urahara said slowly. "Possibly even something bigger than we ever imagined. I'll keep searching through the documents. Put together all the pictures we have in a roughly ordered timeline – maybe the appearance of their eyes changes over time."

Throughout the course of the night, Yoruichi found more and more pictures of people with flat eyes. Kiyoshi's father Kenichi had them. One of Kiyoshi's three brothers and both of his sisters had them. Etsuko seemed to be the only one of Kiyoshi's children that had them. "Maybe it's just an odd genetic trait," she mused hopefully.

"Oh, an odd genetic trait it most certainly is. But there is no 'just' about it." Urahara said sourly. "All of these people are dead, and apparently from what I can find, none of their ancestors lived very long, either. In fact, I'm almost sure that Shoka and Misao are the last members of this very strange family."

"A genetic disease?" she suggested.

"Maybe . Hisoka didn't live long enough for us to find out from him. Other than having a wicked poker face, Misao didn't seem unusual at all. We haven't met Shoka in person, but wouldn't Shinji mention something if there were? Wouldn't they seem a little sick before just dropping dead all of a sudden? Not that their spirits wouldn't immediately get up and start walking around anyway."

Yoruichi was frowning, apparently deep in thought, her dark forehead heavily wrinkled. "Poker face…" She started shifting through the pictures before picking up seven of them. "Look at this, Kisuke. They all have the same facial expressions – or lack thereof. Kenichi, Kiyoshi, his sister Kaoru, Etsuko, her second cousin Aika, Hisoka, and Misao. They all have flat, glassy eyes and blank facial expressions. This can't be a coincidence – how could Hisoka know what his mother's – and grandfather's and great-grandfather's – facial expressions looked like? And that's not the kind of thing that's passed down through five – at least five – generations. What _is_ this?"

Urahara was observing some of the other pictures. "Not all the people with that peculiar flatness to their eyes have that blank face. See here? Shoka doesn't. Kiyoshi's brother Kyo and the other sister Kotone didn't."

"But all people with that blank face have flat eyes." Yoruichi countered. "Get back to your reading! There has to be something else here."

It took Kisuke past three o'clock in the morning to find it. But he did find it. "Yoruichi," he said lowly, stirring the woman from her tired daze. "I believe I've found what we've been looking for."

She stared down at the paper he was holding out to her, but her eyes were too blurry from lack of sleep to read it. "Read it to me," she sighed. "I can't read it – my mind jumbles up the letters. The only thing I can make out is the title –_ Heart to Heart_?"

So Urahara read Etsuko's letter. _"My dear son, by now you may have realized that you are not like other children (or other humans in general), your father's species notwithstanding. Because one of your abilities has nothing to do with your father. It's because of me. And my father. And my father's father, and so on. Since my grandfather explained it for my father, and my father explained for me, I believe I owe you this explanation. What you have is called a Fullbring. I don't know what this means. Generations ago, it could be used to make you jump higher and run faster. The information was lost along with most of our powers. My father called this ability 'Heart to Heart'. It will allow you to feel what is inside another person's heart as if it were in your own. It will also pass itself off to your offspring. This is how you got it and how I got. It won't come to all of your children – some will have it inside them, without being able to use this ability to its full potential, and some simply won't have it at all. I was one of three sisters, and the only sister with Heart to Heart. So how do I know that you possess the Heart to Heart power? From the moment you were born, your eyes looked like a doll's. Look in the mirror. They don't look like living, human eyes, do they? I know. Mine never did, either. Children who are born with Heart to Heart, or the genetic potential to pass it on, always have those flat, doll's eyes. You have them. I have them. Maybe someday one of your own children will have them. Don't see it as a burden or a curse. _

_See it as a gift. A gift from me. _

_From my heart, to your heart._

_That's why they call it 'Heart to Heart'._

_Midono Etsuko_

"You're telling me that this strange genetic disorder they have is actually a spiritual power that can embed itself to the genes of its possessors?" Yoruichi asked in an exhausted moan.

Urahara rubbed at his tired eyes, trying to clear the grit from them. "According to Etsuko's letter and the current evidence we have before us, I'd say that's right."

"Good, let's go to bed."

Over twelve hours later, Kisuke and Yoruichi were back in the room. "I think it's safe to assume that the members of this family with flat eyes either have the genetic potential to pass this trait on or they actually do have the trait."

"If Etsuko was telling the truth," Yoruichi said, nodding.

"Which means that the people who have flat eyes and super-controlled facial expressions are probably the ones who actually have the Heart to Heart trait activated." Urahara concluded.

"Sounds reasonable to me," she agreed. "But Kisuke, that means Misao has this right now. And Hisoka never looked into this box, so they've both lived with this thing their whole lives without knowing what the hell was wrong with them. And Shoka…Shoka has it inside of him. He could pass this on to his child without even knowing it."

"They both could," Urahara pointed out. "Fortunately, Misao probably has a few years before that becomes an immediate problem, but Shoka presents a slightly more urgent issue. I've never actually met the boy, but let's hope he's heavily into celibacy. I need to tell Shinji what we've found, so we can work on a way to tell the Shioris."

"Tell me what?" Shinji closed the sliding paper door behind him and looked at them both, eyes suspiciously narrowed in his normally cheerful face. "Ack, I hate when the two a' ya get that look. A bomb always ends up droppin' from the sky when ya do…"

"Recall if you will, that discussion I had with you about the method in which Ichigo is getting his Shinigami powers back."

"Nutzo humans, blah-blah-blah, special abilities, somethin' somethin', people in danger, yadda yadda – does that about cover it?"

"Close," Urahara said patiently. "What I really meant is – do you remember what I said about a human ability called 'Fullbring'?"

"It's cause by a Hollow bein' close ta a pregnant woman an' havin' the Hollow's powers stay in the kid, ain't it?" he said slowly. "Somethin' about enhancin' the capabilities of an object they hold dear or whatever?"

"Your new little girlfriend has it," Yoruichi said matter-of-factly.

"Yer sayin' a Hollow attacked Misao's mama an' she can enhance – Fullbring – objects around her?" He snorted. "That's likely. Okay, let's say I buy this. Ya got that from reading Hisoka's history? So what object can she…Fullbring?"

Yoruichi's grin was positively feline. She really enjoyed making Shinji squirm, because the opportunities for her to do so were so few and far between. "Her_ heart_, Hirako-kun."

Shinji paused, his face turn an interesting shade of sheet-white. "That, uh, that thing she can do, with feelin' other people's emotions, that's because a Hollow attacked her mama before she was born?"

"Not exactly," Urahara admitted. "It's because a Hollow attacked one of her ancestors while she was pregnant. This Fullbring she has only had two powers now – we suspect the others were diluted with time. The first grants the user the ability to feel other people's emotions as if –"

" – as if they were their own," Shinji finished with grim harshness. "I know."

"The second," Yoruichi continued. "Allows the ability to encode itself to the user's DNA and pass it on to their children. They call the power 'Heart to Heart'. I hope you and Misao weren't planning on lots of kids, because odds are, at least have of them will be affected by this."

Shinji twitched. "Will ya stop that, Yoruichi?"

"Children with Heart to Heart encoded inside their DNA are characterized by their strangely flat, doll-like eyes," Urahara said, trying to hide a smile. Commence with the squirming.

"No," Shinji said suddenly. "That's not true. Shoka don't have this 'Heart to Heart' thing. It's wrong."

"I said 'children who have it encoded in their DNA'," Urahara repeated. "Shoka doesn't actually have Heart to Heart active in his body, but he has the ability to pass it on to his offspring. From what I can tell, he won't have as great a chance of passing on this gene as Misao, but chances are still pretty good. Misao practically has a genetic guarantee that she's going to have a kid with this inside them if she reproduces."

"She won't," Shinji sighed. "She wouldn't ever put a kid through what she puts herself through every day. I can already tell you that. She hates the Heart to Heart power. She'll probably refuse ta have kids before doin' that."

"Then tell her…tell her it's a gift." Urahara said with a smile. "From Hisoka's heart, to hers."

"That's…unusually poetic of ya, Kisuke."

"It's not mine. It's from Hisoka's mother, Etsuko," he said, handing him the letter. "She was a human with the Heart to Heart power. From what I can tell, she was afraid Hisoka wouldn't be able to grow up as a normal child if he lived with her and she was only fifteen when she had him. What was it that you came over here for, Shinji?"

"Who's Hisoka's father?"

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

"Ya don't fuckin' know? Ya give me a goddamn history paper on his mother but ya never bothered ta find out who his father is?"

"We were more preoccupied with the greater of the two evils," Yoruichi snapped. "His unknown father who was an ordinary Shinigami, or his known mother, whose family seems to possess a freakish genetic disorder? Hm, which shall we choose?"

"Yeah, well, figurin' out who his father was is now yer top priority." Shinji snarled. "I got Shinigami from three different divisions – well, now it's two – sayin' Misao looks like someone they _know_. An' since she looks like her daddy…"

"-who looks almost exactly like his father, from what we did gather." Urahara said finally. "Because he definitely looks nothing like Etsuko – past the eyes, anyway. I think the missing father must have had gray eyes, though."

"What makes ya say that?"

"Well, Etsuko's eyes were more green with a touch of gray, but then Hisoka's were about equal in both – neither really gray or green."

Shinji shrugged. "That doesn't mean much. Kazuko had green eyes, but Shoka an' Misao both still have the equal mix of green an' gray in them."

"Oh, touché." Urahara grinned. "I may make research assistants out of you two yet."

Yoruichi threw a book at his head.


	19. Etsuko

Paradox of Nihilism

Etsuko

Hinamori Momo read through her notes, wondering why she'd written 'caterpillar rules' when what she's meant to write was 'twelfth division needs tools'. She sighed, admitting to herself that she'd been…well, distracted lately.

Abarai-taicho was fairly relaxed, but didn't like to be bothered by minor details. He would happily take any major problems out of her hands in a heartbeat, but he wasn't patient enough to turn his attention to the little everyday squabbles – he simply passed them off to his lieutenant. He also didn't tolerate anyone questioning his commands. But all in all, Momo was content.

She would happily take care of all the small details for her taicho if he would protect her from the enormous stress of the huge disasters. So far, he was doing that with steadfast dependability. Not something she would ever think could describe Renji. Honestly, it almost felt like she should have a crush on him. But she really didn't. She did like the nice, comfortable relationship they had so far, though. Looking back, she realized that Aizen really seemed too good to be true – and he was. But Renji seemed just enough to keep her out of a world of fantasy and rainbows and castles in the sky. If she even got close, he'd scowl and give her a good flick to the back of the head, or toss a pencil at her. "Get to work!" he'd growl. "You have reports to write, don't you?"

"Hai, Abarai-taicho," she would chirp.

Running a hand through her frizzy and tangled bangs, Momo took a sip of her tea and went back to her notes. Matsumoto had notified her of the change in location for the Shinigami Women's Association. Kira and Isane both put in requests for equipment on the roster she was working on for submission to Yamamoto-sotaicho. Isane had also pointed out that they should all start reminding their divisions of the annual mandatory check-ups coming up.

Momo scanned the rest of her writing. Rukia and officially been inducted as the sixth division's next fukutaicho, but they all know that meant she wouldn't be able to see Ichigo every Friday anymore. But then again, knowing Byakuya, he might let her off the hook once a week anyway. None of them could think of any way she could possibly get worse, but just in case she could, they weren't going to do anything to hasten the process.

The girl with Rukia's voice had been popping in and out of Momo's head for the past week. In fact, that was probably the main reason for her distraction recently. Momo frowned, annoyed, and tried to go back to her notes. She stared down at her own handwriting, the paper suddenly crumpling under her grip. "I know who you are," she whispered. _"I know who you are."_

At Urahara Shoten, Urahara Kisuke scratched a name out onto a piece of paper and handed it to Shihoin Yoruichi. "Go into the Shinigami archives – you may have to check the records of the deceased – and check for this name. The picture I gave you should match the picture in his roster."

"You're sure? Absolutely sure?"

"Very sure. Just look at the picture – that couldn't be anyone but Hisoka's father."

She couldn't argue there.

It actually didn't take her very long to find him in the archives. And the face in his roster matched the face in her photos, too. But there was another match for that surname in the archives. It was in the active Shinigami's roster. "Damn it."

"Kisuke, look at this. I found it on the active roster of the archives. Look familiar to you?"

"Damn it," he swore, staring down into the picture. "Apparently they have more than an aunt, Yoruichi."

"Telling them about Rie is one thing, Kisuke, telling them about this is something else entirely. This…this is a Shinigami. Shoka is a Visored and Misao is a human – they're not even supposed to know each other, let alone be related."

"Yes, and a Visored and a human shouldn't know each other either, but they do and they are related. They all deserve to know that they have someone else out there. Rie has her own little family now, but I'm sure she would like to hear from her niece and nephew once in a while, right?

Yoruichi looked down at her hands and frowned, because he was right. Rie had been ecstatic about the thought of getting to see Shoka and Misao. This Shinigami had no other living family – and she checked the archives for them, too. And according to Shinji, Shoka and Misao weren't doing so well on their own anymore. They hadn't been for a while.

Shoka was not confident about his powers – in fact, he was terrified of them. So terrified that he was subconsciously refusing to even cultivate them. His reluctance meant that he could end up killing someone (including himself) with his lack of control. Misao needed someone else to depend on other than her brother. Her dependence on him was unhealthy. Shoka wasn't going to be able to have his own life if he was too worried about his sister's mental and emotional problems. Misao's problems were whole other issue. Shinji told him that Shoka hinted that his sister's compulsive behaviors were linked to the trauma of her parents' deaths, but she refused to talk about it. Shoka was afraid she was going to have a complete breakdown one day.

"Why can't ya take her ta, ya know, a therapist or somethin'? She couldn't tell 'em about the spiritual would but she could talk about…the accident."

"Assuming that she would even bother to talk in the first place, I still couldn't let her do that," Shoka replied.

"Why not?"

"Because if the therapist, or psychiatrist, or mental health expert calls social services on me, they'll take Misao out of my custody in the blink of an eye."

"Shoka, they only do that ta people who ain't good parents," Shinji said, trying to reassure him. "From what I can see, ya do just fine. Misao is happy with ya – she wouldn't be happy with anyone else."

Shoka was looking at the ground. "Yeah, that might be how you see it, but they would classify me as an abusive parent, Hirako-san."

"Abusive?" he asked incredulously.

"She's spent most of the past five years worried that something was going to set me off, Hirako-san. She doesn't have any skills she can make money from. She can't cook her own meals. She has symptoms of anxiety disorder, depression, and obsessive-compulsive disorder but I've never take her to a doctor for treatment. Her emotional wellbeing is solely reliant on me. In other words, she's been terrified of me many times in her life and I've made her completely dependent on me. Those are signs of an abuser. They will take her away if anyone calls social services."

That was one hell of a compelling argument. Shinji agreed not to repeat the conversation and the discussion was over. So they needed help – bad – but Misao preferred to live in the land of denial and Shoka was too afraid of losing her.

Finally, Yoruichi managed to say "Would you like to tell the Shinigami or the Shioris first?"

Urahara grinned. "Both. We'll send Shinji to tell Shoka and Misao and you can tell the Shinigami."

It was Sunday and Shinji was making his way to the Shiori house, trying to run through ways that he could breech the subject of Hisoka's unknown parentage with them.

At eleven o'clock on a Sunday morning, Shoka still answered the door in his pajamas. "You need something, Hirako-san?"

"Uh, yeah. I gotta talk ta ya an' Misao fer a while. Can we sit?"

"Yeah, she's in the living room. We can sit in there."

Like he predicted, the Shiori house was as clean as a hospital, but rather than disinfectant and illness, it smelled strongly of bleach.

Misao was on the couch, watching television with her knees beside her on the cushions in a long pajama gown. Shinji had to focus on the news he brought them rather than the very gratifying experience of seeing her without a bra on. Almost as gratifying was getting to see her suck on the spoon from her cereal for the fifteen seconds it took her to realize that he was in the room. "Why are you here, Hirako-san?"

He grinned. "I missed ya too much, darlin'."

Shoka made a strange sound in his throat like a grunt with a growl in it. "Behave. And you," he said, poking Shinji in the shoulder. "You're old enough to be her grandfather several times over."

Shinji snorted. "Not. I was four when I died. I wasn't old enough ta have kids until the early eighteen hundreds. Theoretically speakin', my kid wouldn't be old enough ta have kids until right now. But speaking of grandfathers, I have somethin' ta tell ya about yers."

Shoka sat beside Misao on the couch and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Grandpa Koga? What about him?"

"Did ya know that he was a lieutenant fer the tenth division many years ago? Never mind. That's not the grandfather I'm talking about."

"Hirako-san, we don't have any other grandfather. Or grandmother. Our father was adopted," Misao said, speaking as though she was talking to a slow six-year-old. "We had Grandpa Koga and Grandma Amaya. They died when I was seven."

"Well, see, that's the thin'…" Shinji scratched the back of his neck. "I kinda started lookin' fer yer papa's real parents. An' I found 'em, too."

Those eyes had never looked more dull and blank than they did now. "You…?"

"Found 'em, yeah. They ain't alive no more, but…" He sighed. "I kinda gotta lotta things ta tell ya…I really don't know a good way ta say them all, so…I'm just do it one atta time. Misao, you didn't get that emotional contamination by accident. Yer daddy had it, too. An' he got it from his mama. It's called a Fullbring. It's a lot weaker than it was generations ago. Yer gramma wrote a letter ta yer papa – she said it's called Heart to Heart. She said it was a gift from her heart, to his, because it only has one other special ability. It can pass itself on ta the owner's kids. Kids who can pass it on always have very dull, glassy eyes, so Shoka can, too."

Misao's hands clenched in her lap. She was happy that she could have this power because it had been her father's. She was angry that he'd never told her, too, but how could he tell her about what he himself could not explain? _I can never have children, _she realized sadly. She'd never really thought about it before, but she always assumed she would. Of course, to do that she would need to find a man she could actually stand touching her. _One that's not my brother or thirty times my age._

She was happy to have something that was her father's, but she wouldn't let what happened to her happen to her own child. The teasing from other children, the fainting in class, vomiting whenever there was a test, getting strange looks from adults, and always, _always_ doubting what you really felt.

Shoka swallowed heavily. He actually liked kids, a lot. He looked forward to having them. Knowing he could give one of the Heart to Heart wasn't as frightening to him as it was to Misao, because he associated it with one – now two people – that he loved. But now the decision to have them carried much more weight than it had before. How could he explain to his wife – who would likely be a normal human woman – that their child would always know when they were upset or happy? "Is there anything else?"

"Yer daddy's mama was called Etsuko. She got pregnant when she was only fifteen when she had him an' she was worried that she wouldn't be able ta give him a normal life if she kept him. So she gave him ta woman in her neighborhood who wanted a child. She and her husband were Shiori Yumi and Shiori Hakuji. When yer daddy was about Misao's age, they had a daughter named Rie." He handed her the picture of a visibly pregnant young woman. "She's Nato Rie now. Your aunt. She's going to have a son in a few more months."

Shoka accepted the photo and stared at it with Misao. "She's beautiful," Misao murmured. "She's almost as beautiful as Shojohime."

High praise indeed. There was nothing Misao though more lovely than Shojohime.

"She wants ta meet ya sometime," Shinji encouraged. "I got her address an' phone number if ya wanna ask her about yer dad. She lives in Kyoto."

Shoka rubbed the top of Misao's head. "We should, ne?"


	20. Junhei

Paradox of Nihilism

Junhei

"So what about our grandfather?" Misao asked. "You said you knew about both of our grandparents."

"…Yeah. His name was Junhei. He was a Shinigami. Tenth seat fer the thirteenth division. He was about two hundred years older than Etsuko. He was, uh, he was killed in a kinda famous battle. The lieutenant of the thirteenth division an' his wife were taken over by a Hollow…an' the wife killed several people. Junhei was one of those people. The lieutenant an' his wife both had ta be killed. That happened just before yer dad was born. Only, ha, um, yer father wasn't Junhei's first child."

They both blinked at him. "Excuse me?" Shoka said faintly. Misao was staring with her usual blank expression on. "He…what?"

"Yer grandfather had another son before yer dad – he's only about a hundred and fifty now. That's fairly young fer a Shinigami but he's pretty high up. I've never actually met him, but I hear he's gotta lotta talent."

"We…we have a Shinigami uncle?" Misao confirmed.

"Yes." Shinji handed them the other picture Yoruichi gave him. "This is him."

"Oh, Misao," Shoka breathed. "He looks just like Papa."

"I've sent someone ta tell him about ya." Shinji said, trying not to grimace. He feared Misao's reaction to this.

She immediately went rigid. "Tell HIM?"

"Yes," he said sharply. "Tell him."

"I though Shinigami executed Visored," she hissed.

"Shoka was not within their jurisdiction at the time he became a Visored. An' his Hollowfication was an accident, not somethin' he did deliberately. So he will be notified that ya exist. This man has no other family – it's possible that he may actually be glad ta meet ya."

"We want to meet him." Misao glared at her brother and Shoka just glared right back.

"Good. His name is – "

Yoruichi Shihoin walked into Seireitei, navigating the familiar streets with expert ease until she found the right door and then knocked on the frame.

"Yes, I'm still here," a deep, tired voice rumbled. "What new disaster is it this time, Nagani?"

"Who?" She walked into the room. "Are you Hisagi Shuhei?"

She hardly had to ask, really. Getting to see Hisagi Shuhei was like looking the dead Hisoka in the face. It was an incredibly eerie experience. The man sighed and rubbed his temples. "Yes, that's me. My sixth seat Nagani has been in here bugging me the whole day. Can I help you…?"

"Yoruichi. Actually, you can. Do you remember your father Junhei, Hisagi-san?"

"Shihoin? The ex-captain? Ah, no, not that well. My mother was never in the picture and my father was trying to climb the thirteenth division's ladder. I apparently had talent, so I was sent to the Academy pretty early. Why?"

"It's come to my attention that your father had another son that was born just before his death. With a human."

Shuhei frowned deeply. "Are you sure? I mean, how do you know?"

"The boy's mother wrote several letters mentioning him by name. And if I had any doubts," She took out Hisoka's photo. "There's this, too. His name is Hisoka."

He was stunned speechless for several moments, just staring down at the picture in complete bemusement. Shuhei looked like his father, too, and this…this was like staring into a picture of his own face. All of their features were alike…except the eyes. Hisoka had a dead man's eyes. He looked older than Shuhei, too. Maybe between…thirty and thirty-five. "Is he…how is he? I mean, can…could I, uh, meet him?"

She lowered her eyes. "I'm afraid not, Hisagi-san. I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you this, but Hisoka is dead. He and his wife Kazuko were killed by a Hollow nearly six years ago. But there are his children." She passed him their picture, thinking that the carefree smiles the two of them were throwing the camera was extremely deceptive of their real natures – at least for Misao, anyway. "The young man is twenty-one and his name is Shokanmaru. Everyone calls him Shoka. He's affected by the same Hollow problem Ichigo was."

"Like Kurosaki? How did the boy get a Hollow inside him?"

"The same Hollow that killed Hisoka and Kazuko started chewing on his Chain of Fate. The Hollowfication process couldn't be prevented. The girl will be sixteen next month and her name is Misao. She wants to be a Shinigami."

Shuhei swallowed anxiously. "She, uh, she looks like…like…"

"Yeah, she looks like all of you. I have a friend telling them both about you right now. If you want, I can set up a meeting point in Rukongai for them. This friend will try very hard to encourage them to say yes. Do you agree to this, Hisagi-san?"

Shuhei could only manage to get out one word. "Yes."

Misao was in her shihakusho and her little rabbit ears had been let out so that her sleek black hair lay flat against her head. Shojohime was securely tied to the sash around her waist. Shoka was also in his and he'd even gotten a haircut for this, too. He didn't even do that when she asked him to. His zanpakuto – still unnamed – was sheathed horizontally at his lower back, out of Shoka's line of sight.

Wind rushed through the meadow, making the grass sway and her shihakusho shift away from her legs. They were somewhere in a place Shinji called 'Rukongai'. It was within Soul Society. She could fell the buzz of spirit particles surrounding her everywhere.

Surprisingly, it was the amazingly pretty woman from the Urahara Shoten who led them to this place. That was where Shinji led them. "Go with her," he said, gesturing to Yoruichi. "It's a mutual agreement that the Shinigami don't bother us in the livin' world, an' we don't go inta Soul Society. If I try ta venture inta Soul Society again, someone will come a' runnin' ta chop my head off. Yoruichi-san here will happily be yer escort, though."

So here they were, standing in a meadow in Rukongai. Yoruichi stood in front of them, calmly surveying the wind blowing through the tall trees surrounding them. "He'll be here soon. He's been scanning this area for your reiatsu. He will be able to feel your arrival."

Misao clenched her hands together behind her back and tried to work on keeping her features – especially her damn lips – free of any emotional indicators. Inside, she could feel Shoka's anxious anticipation and Yoruichi's calm, steadying indifference. Misao didn't know what she felt, but this time, it was because she couldn't decide how to feel. Suddenly, she put a hand on her brother's arm. "I can feel him coming," she murmured. "But I can't tell his reiatsu."

Shoka stared straight forward. "It's very strong."

Yoruichi nodded. "He's a lieutenant. And since the ninth division has no captain at the present time, he's also the acting captain, too."

An abrupt sound signaled the arrival of someone using flash steps.

And there he was.

The picture Shinji gave them before was taken from the active roster, and therefore, only showed the '69' tattoo (which was suspiciously familiar to Misao at least) perched along his left cheekbone. It didn't show the bands around his arms and neck, the bandage across the bridge of his nose and cheek, or the three scars running from his forehead to his jaw.

_That's wicked badass._

Misao has to admit it. Her new uncle was fucking cool. Of course, that could all translate into 'scary' and 'fucking crazy', too.

His step was easy and light, but weary – like a man who was powerful, but tired. Like their father, he had a solemn face and spiky black hair. His eyes were completely gray and shined like hard steel. His expression was neutral and placid. He scanned their faces. "Welcome to Soul Society." His voice was even and low. She found herself breathing a sigh of relief, because it was not her father's voice. "I'm Shuhei. I'm…I'm your uncle."

Shoka shook his hand. "Hello, Shuhei. I'm Shoka and my sister is Misao."

She couldn't fail to notice that her brother was only doing this for her sake or that his eyes stayed on her the longest. It made her uncomfortable, but she could hardly blame him. She looked like him, and like the half-brother he'd never gotten to know. She lowered her gaze away from his and carefully kept her mouth in a straight line. She wasn't sure what she felt, so she didn't want to convey something to him unintentionally. "Hello," she said demurely. "It's nice to meet you, Hisagi-san."

Shoka wanted to sympathize with the expression of startled bemusement that crossed his face at her use of his last name, but it was all he could do not to laugh out loud.

"Ah…I know a nice restaurant in this district." Yoruichi interrupted lightly. "Don't stand here like the trees, let's go."

The Shioris fell in line behind Shuhei.

Now, Shinigami at lieutenant level and higher usually learn to advance at least one sense of perception above normal human level. This was especially necessary for Shuhei, because of the partial vision loss in his right eye. As a consequence, his hearing was exceptional. Which is why he heard them whispering from six feet behind him.

"What does he feel?" Shoka felt bad for using his sister's ability this way, but wanted to make sure this man was safe enough for him to leave her alone with him. He didn't intend to come back to Soul Society very often. Coming here was only for Misao's benefit. She needed someone other than him to rely on.

"I don't know." She sounded irritated. "I can't tell past your gigantic guilt complex."

Shuhei's eyes widened. Could his niece read emotions? Kurotsuchi-taicho would jizz his pants for the chance to throw her into an experimentation tank. If she really could do that, he couldn't let anyone find out about it.

"He's…um, worried." Misao tried to ignore the sudden feeling of anxiety clutching her stomach. "He wants us to like him…and he's very worried about something."

He'd be damned! She really could read emotion. That did nothing to lessen his worries, though. It only increased them.

Yoruichi left them at _Sweet Ai!_ and Shuhei gestured to seats as far away from the other people as he possibly could manage. The waitress was Ai herself, a busty blond woman who'd been running this restaurant for the past two centuries. "So," he said when she was out of earshot. "I hear the two of you want to be Shinigami."

Misao looked down at the white collar of her shihakusho and Shoka grinned. "With some mixed success, I have to admit," he said. "Misao is much more enthusiastic than I am."

"Perhaps I can help." He patiently folded his hands together on the table in front of him. "Are you having any kind of difficulties?"

"We both seem to have problems working with our zanpakutos. Myself especially." Shoka didn't seem to register the stricken expression that suddenly flashed over Shuhei's face. "Mine…kind of hates me."

"Rose keeps telling me that I need to rely on mine more," Misao admitted softly. "I keep trying to use it as a shield instead of a sword."

Shuhei smiled again, but it was slightly bitter this time. "That sounds very familiar," he muttered. "Almost eerily so."

Shoka looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

He drew his zanpakuto from the sheath and set it on the table between them. The tsuba was an octagonal shape and the hilt-wrap was a neat black. A fairly ordinary-looking katana, all in all. Shuhei tapped the blade with a short fingernail. "He and I have never gotten along well. He's the kind of weapon a demon would use. I never release him unless I absolutely have to."

_Very familiar indeed,_ Shoka silently agreed. He thought about his own zanpakuto, with her yellowed fangs and growling, mocking voice. She wasn't made to be used by a demon, she _was_ the demon.

Misao looked into her water glass, wondering if drinking spirit particles could possibly be bad for her body. "Sometimes…" she began, faltering when they both turned and looked at her. She stared determinedly into her glass. "Sometimes I forget that I'm holding a weapon in my hands….No, not exactly that. Sometimes I forget that I have to do the work. That she can't do all the work for me…So I just stop using attacks and just block. I have to remember that I have to be the one to protect myself."

Judging from Shoka's surprised expression, that was an usual speech for Misao. Apparently the younger Shiori wasn't big on sharing. Just from looking at her, he could see that.

At that moment, Hinamori Momo walked into the restaurant and saw Hisagi and the girl with Rukia's voice. She knew it! The girl was related to Hisagi-san! But the man with the wavy red-brown hair sitting next to her was not familiar. Momo knew he was related to that girl – Misao? – because their eyes were the same dull shade of gray-green. He had a nice smile. A handsome, amiable face.

Shaking her head, Momo sat down at a table by the door and ordered nothing but a tea. She wouldn't have time to eat anything – she had somewhere she had to be.

As Momo got up to leave, so did Hisagi and the strange pair with him. He walked toward her table with the two of them behind him. "Good afternoon, Hinamori-fukutaicho," he greeted cordially. "How is your new captain treating you?"

"Very well, Hisagi-san." Momo favored them with an even smile. "Abarai-taicho is treating me well. I still have plenty to do, though. Are you coming to see the new graduates, too, Hisagi-san?"

He cringed. "Shit – I mean, oops," he corrected himself hastily, glancing down at the girl trailing him like a little duckling. "I nearly forgot about that, thank you, Hinamori-san. Yes, I will be coming with you. Would you like to see the Academy? It's where Shinigami are trained for field work before being assigned to a division?"

The Shioris both nodded, although Misao seemed more interested than her brother did. Of course, from Shuhei's observations so far, Shoka didn't much care for the idea of being a Shinigami and Misao didn't much care for the idea of being a human. Neither of them realized that eventually this was going to separate them from their seemingly inseparable relationship, but Shinigami and humans did not mix.

He approved of their healthy hesitation with their powers – but Shoka would have to stop. His reiatsu was vicious – biting. If he was too afraid of his power, he wouldn't have any control over it. That was a good way to kill someone. Personally, the Visoreds sounded more equipped to deal with that then him. In the mean time, Shoka seemed to be hinting that he should be giving Misao his attention. For what reason, he couldn't guess.

"Hinamori, why don't you accompany us?" The dark-haired girl looked startled, but nodded, too. "Hinamori, this is my nephew, Shiori Shoka, and my niece, Shiori Misao. Shoka, Misao, this is Hinamori Momo-fukutaicho of the fifth division. We have to be at the Academy to check out the recent graduates for recruitment."

Misao was immediately interested, suggesting Shoka's reasons for trying to push them together. "What if more than one division wants a certain recruit?" she asked. "How is their division decided?"

Shoka fell behind to chat with Momo and Shuhei fell into step beside her so that he could match her stride without straining her legs. "Which division they decide on is ultimately up to the recruit themselves," he told her. "But it helps if they know a specific division has taken an interest. On the other hand, some Shinigami are innately suited to the more specialized divisions."

"Specialized divisions?" She blinked. "What does that mean?"

"Some divisions have certain specialties. Did no one ever tell you this?"

She shook her head.

"Some have actual specialties – something they do no one else does – and some are just traditions passed down from generation to generation. Traits that division is known for."

"So…what does your division specialize in?"

"We run the Seireitei newspaper and serve as the security force for the Gotei 13. I'm not as familiar with the publication process as I am with the security detail," he told her candidly. "But I have to be the one to take care of everything, since I'm the acting captain now."

"Why?"

Shuhei froze, looking down into her completely innocent face. "The previous captain was a traitor to all Shinigami," he said tightly. "Which is why I was obligated to execute him."

Misao froze, looking up into his utterly drained and stressed face. She looked down at the peach-wrapped hilt of her katana. "My brother almost killed me." She didn't mean for that to come out. But she wasn't the kind of person who could use physical affection as a form of comfort – especially not with someone she only met today (even if he was technically her uncle). She wasn't good with words, either. Or with interaction of any kind. So it just kind of came out. "The first time he became a Hollow, my brother almost killed me – accidentally of course." She rubbed the scar on her neck nervously. Shinji was reapplying his illusion everyday now – usually in a covert manner. "I don't think I would be well suited to your division, Hisagi-san. I'm not very eloquent."

_I beg to differ._

"Well, the second division runs covert ops, the fourth is medical care and supplies, the eleventh are combat-hungry and specialize in melee combat – so no Kido, and the twelve division has a science and research facility. Then there are the divisions who are simply know for certain traits. First is leadership skills. Third takes no joy in war. Fifth is known for being really laid back. Sixth is very responsible and by the book. Seventh have a lot of courage. Eighth is very sophisticated, but the captain favors women. Tenth is hard-working and thoughtful. Thirteenth is generous and kind. They all really follow the examples of their captains, to be truthful."

Behind them, Shoka and Momo laughed about something.

Hinamori Momo found Shiori Shoka to be funny, genial, and polite.

The girl never stood a chance.


	21. Revelations

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Comic relief curtesy of Shinji and Hiyori, lol.

Revelations

"Are ya trying ta bring the roof down on our heads with yer fat ass, Shinji?" Hiyori landed lightly on the shaking metal sheets that made up the roof of the Visoreds' warehouse. "Why are ya sulkin' up here, dickhead?"

Shinji's page boy cap covered his whole face. His voice was muffled through the fabric. "I'm not sulkin', I'm thinkin'."

He heard the sound of sandals stepping on the metal sheets as Hiyori walked over and squatted down next to his head. "Ya really got weird since that girl left, Shinji. Ya ain't gonna go an' do somethin' stupid, are ya?"

"Ya mean, am I gonna run over ta Kisuke's an' run in ta Soul Society after her?" He smiled wryly from underneath the hat. "Now why would I go an' do a thing like that, Hiyori? She'll probably be back by nightfall."

The blond girl sighed. Even if he was a big stupid dickhead, Hiyori was fond of Shinji. He'd done a lot for her and inside, she thought he was one of the good ones. It was kind of pathetic, actually – she didn't think he knew _how_ to be a bad person. That was why he and Aizen would always have been worlds apart. "No, dickhead. I wanna know if yer gonna do somethin' yer gonna end up regrettin' later. Like makin' a human love ya when we both know ya don't feel the same. I know ya ain't that cruel, Shinji Hirako."

"I wish," he replied softly.

"Nani?"

"I've already done somethin' stupid, Hiyori-chan." His grin beneath the cap was strained and bitter. "I love a human even though I know she don't feel the same."

Hiyori went very quiet. "I thought yer first love was Orihime-chan," she said, laughing weakly. "What will she think now that ya've abandoned her?"

Shinji sighed, lying a hand on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath his fingers, the same way it had for nearly five hundred years – give or take a few decades. "Hiyori, I don't think I like red-heads anymore." He tipped the cap sideways, glimpsing a sliver of sunlight beneath the rim. "And I've decided I like small breasts, too."

Hiyori simply stood up and walked away. Because that could not possibly be Shinji Hirako. That was an imposter inside his body. Or at least that's what she'd say when everyone else asked what the hell was the matter with him. As she stepped down from the roof, she glanced around – just to see if maybe Hell had frozen over or the sun had died.

Nope.

Still normal.

Hiyori shook her head. Now that just wasn't right.

Misao watched with fascination as the students would freeze and stand at attention for the two lieutenants with them. After they passed by, the whispering would start up.

Momo and Shuhei surveyed the upcoming graduates carefully, speaking softly to each other and their new guests. "The blond girl and the heavyset man next to her," Momo said, with a startling decisiveness. "Definitely not the red-head in the front. She won't even take orders from her instructors."

"I agree," Shuhei said, nodding. "She's like an even more obnoxious, irritating version of Abarai. I don't think she can be trained against that. Let Zaraki-taicho spend her first year beating the arrogance out of her – I don't think she's worth the time and effort. I like the small boy at the back."

"Are you sure?" Momo turned her eyes away from the students to look at him. "He's really young, Shuhei-san."

He raised an eyebrow. "You were really young. Hitsugaya-taicho is only a little older than that right now. Kusajishi-fukutaicho is even younger than that."

"You have a captain that looks like that?" Shoka said incredulously, looking mildly horrified. "And a lieutenant even smaller?"

Momo smiled hugely at him, making him flush red. "Shiro-chan looks twelve!"

From the corner of his eye, Shuhei watched his niece flash Momo a look that startled and disturbed him. The sheer hatred she aimed in her direction was shocking. But then he saw the way Shoka was smiling back at Momo. She was…jealous?

"Come, Misao," Shuhei beckoned. "I want you to watch the Zanjutsu spar and Kido practices with me. They're required to show off their skills for us."

Misao followed him out of the room – but only after looking at Shoka smiling at Momo with a large scowl on her face. Poor Shoka was utterly oblivious of this.

Another lieutenant – she knew because Shuhei told her he was – stood in the practice rooms, taking meticulous notes of the students there. "She's Ise Nanao-fukutaicho. For the eighth. And over there," he pointed discreetly to a pair standing across the practice area from them. "That's the thirteenth's captain, Ukitake-taicho and the second's captain, Soifon-taicho."

"I thought checking the class was more of a lieutenant's job?" she asked, now successfully distracted. Which was precisely his intention, of course.

"Yes and no," he acknowledged. "It is considered one of the duties of a captain, but it's normally delegated to the lieutenant as a sign of good faith. I do it because I have to do all of the captain's duties now, but Kyoraku-taicho has Nanao-san take care of most of the administrative tasks in the eighth division and Abarai-taicho knows Momo-san from his Academy days and trusts her opinions. Soifon-taicho is a bit of a control freak, so it's not surprising that she elected to go in Omaeda-san's place and Ukitake-taicho doesn't have a lieutenant again since Rukia-san got transferred at the last minute."

They watched the soon-to-be Academy graduates in silence for an hour, neither of them really inclined to talk much normally. First was Zanjutsu spars, then the Kido demonstrations. Once finished, the students lined up in three rows as the lieutenants and captains surveyed them. Shuhei tugged Misao's arm, making her look up at him. "Which one was the best?"

"Huh?"

He nudged her playfully. "Don't 'huh' me. I can tell the difference between someone watching idly and someone who knows what they're doing." He smirked down at her, making her smirk back. "The Visoreds taught you something, Misao. Now show me. Which one of these students should I choose?"

"Only one?" she asked hesitantly.

"Only one," he said firmly.

She scanned the students critically. Some only looked half her age and some were at least three times older. "None of the older ones," she said immediately.

"Why?" he questioned patiently, like a teacher giving an exam.

"If it's taken them this long to graduate, chances are they're not very good," she reasoned. "And none of their reiatsu feels particularly strong."

"Good," he encouraged. "Keep going."

"Not the youngest two, either," she decided. "They were too confident of themselves and the girl nearly got herself killed. Not the tallest boy in the middle row, either."

"Why not? He has the greatest amount of reiatsu and the greatest skills in zanjutsu."

"His Kido is pathetic and he's out of control," Misao argued. "He doesn't even pretend to try to control his power, no how weak is opponent is. And frankly, I find his desire to hurt living things disturbing."

She fought to make her mouth straight as pleasure radiated off of him.

"Very good. Are you ready to make your decision?" Without showing her, he wrote down the name of that boy. As head of the security force, it was his job to make sure the second division checked those people out. That young man might be taking a trip to the Nest of Maggots – to become a permanent resident.

Misao glanced back at him for a moment before looking at the students again. "Pick her," she said finally, pointing to a stocky woman with a partially shaved head and lip piercing. She was maybe a little older than Shoka. "I suppose this is the part where you ask me to defend my decision, right?"

"Of course," he said, nodding. "Why do you think I should pick Miss…Asuzu? Her reiastsu is only fourth or fifth in the class and she's a little older than most of the other graduates here. Defend your decision."

"She had quick hands and quick feet," Misao began. "And there's something very clever about her eyes. Most of her opponents were larger and stronger than her, but she kept her cool. She took a few risks in her fights, but they weren't stupid risks. She knew she could surprise that other girl by double flash-stepping and she did. She's confident, but she's not arrogant and she didn't humiliate her opponents when they lost – and the only time she lost, she accepted it instead of throwing a tantrum like a few of her younger classmates. Her appearance also suggests the kind of artistic point of view you said the ninth division favors."

Shuhei lifted up one corner of his mouth in a smile. She felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder as he leaned forward slightly. He was…proud of her? He was proud of her! "Well now, I know at least one of you has real talent," he murmured next to her ear. "Congratulations, Misao. You just passed the lieutenant's verbal examination."

Her head turned so fast that Shuhei felt strands of hair brush his cheek. She tried to shift her wooden expression for him, showing that she was both pleased and bewildered. "You're not serious," she accused. "It can't be that easy."

He shrugged. "It was for me, Rukia-san, Iba-san, and Kira. The others did a written version or their captains devised their own ways of testing their decision making skills."

"I think I'd like to be a lieutenant or a captain, one day," she said softly.

"That better be a long time from now," Shuhei said sternly. "You won't be able to do either until you die."

She paused, then said "If I die in the human world…"

"Your soul will be expelled from your body and unlike before, you'll find yourself unable to return to it," he said quietly. "Then you'll need another Shinigami to perform the burial rites for you so you can come here."

"Does dying hurt?"

"I don't know. I was born a Shinigami." That corner of his mouth lifted again. He looked so much like her father that sometimes, it was painful. "Your humanity is a good thing, you know."

How did he figure it out, within a single afternoon? How could he know that she hated being a human? She supposed she did give herself away, being so eager to know all about being a Shinigami. "I don't see it that way," she said stiffly. "I make a better Shinigami than a human."

"Yes, but a hybrid is always stronger – both as a normal human and as a Shinigami – than either of those two races. Your brother is a Visored, too, so he's more powerful still."

"Power isn't the most important thing..." She stared at the walls of the room. "Regret is…"

"What was that?" That sounded like something Tosen would have said to him.

"It's something Papa used to say to us," she told him, her fingers absently caressing the peach-wrapped hilt of Shojohime. "'Power isn't the most important thing, as a Shinigami.' he would say. 'The most important thing is your regret. When you close your eyes to die, there should be nothing you regret doing or saying. No great wrongs you've committed against another being. Your honor is the only thing you're born with, the thing that only you can kill. Don't lose it to power and regret.' He said that as long as I could do that, I would be a good Shinigami."

"I think we would have gotten along very well, your father and I." He smiled at her but it was slightly sad.

She had to shift her face for him again to smile back.

_Shinji's mouth came down on the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Her skin tasted like something sweet and flowery, something he half-remembered, as though from a dream. Strong teeth sank into the flesh hard – hard enough to leave evidence. The hand in his hair tightened, long nails scraped his scalp, and Misao cried out into the stark space of the white, cold office. _

"Fuck," Shinji swore as his eyes opened, the sound of her voice as she moaned still ringing in his ears. Even through his tongue piercing, he could taste her in his mouth. For the past week this was how he found himself waking up.

He rubbed his eyes grumpily and stalked out of bed and into his adjoining bathroom to take care of the serious wood he was experiencing. He could ignore it, but he'd end up having to change the sheets in the morning – which would make Hiyori tease him about being a disgusting pervert, Lisa would ask him if he needed to borrow her magazines. Mashiro would giggle at him, and Love and Rose would give him a look. A look, which meant 'so, you still haven't gotten her, yet, huh?'.

Three minutes later (because at this point he just wanted to get it over with) he was tossing a dirty towel in the laundry hamper. "Fuck," he swore again. "She's even started to take all the fun outta jerkin' off."

He felt like he was in the midst of a three-way war.

His mind said "You shouldn't need to have sex, you're a grown ass man!"

His body said "You need to have sex – you're a grown ass man!"

His heart said "You're a grown ass man, so you need to have sex, but you should only do it with her!"

Shinji sighed as he got back in bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Well, at least we've established that I'm a grown ass man."

But that was exactly the problem, wasn't it? He was a grown fucking man and he wanted to screw around with a fifteen – almost sixteen – year old girl. Sure, that almost sixteen year old behaved like she was forty most of the time, but that wasn't really the point. Every time, he'd tell himself not to do it, not to go to that place where his hands were on her body and she was emotionally helpless to stop him. He'd tell himself that she didn't want this, didn't want him. But then she'd come out of her titanium-enforced emotional armor of hers for a split second and he'd feel the knowledge of his love in a painfully clear way and he'd end up kissing her all over again.

Misao didn't know it, but she had a perfectly good all-purpose slave ready and willing in the palm of her hand.

_Pathetic,_ he told himself, rolling his eyes. _All she has to do is be nice to me and I'm ready to be her lap dog. If she says jump, I'll ask how high. If she says three feet, I'll run for the fucking tape measure. Bloody hell. Misao is right, I need therapy – just not for the reason she thinks._

"Yeah, Shrink. I wanna fuck a girl who probably hates my guts. I _only_ wanna fuck a girl who probably hates my guts." He closed his eyes to go to sleep. "Do you think this makes you a masochist, Mr. Hirako? Well, it doesn't make me a fucking daisy, now, does it Doc? There, I just saved myself four hundred dollars in therapy."


	22. Working the Gears

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: More for the IchiRuki fans, but it actually has a purpose for the storyline, I swear. Also, more on the interaction front for Shinji and Misao.

Working the Gears

For the past three weeks, Shinji regularly managed to get two acts of suggestive behavior a day. Kissing, touching, lewd remarks, etc. That was before Shoka and Misao began taking trips into Soul Society every Saturday. Now he was lucky if he could wag his eyebrows at her without having her bite his head off. Once, he was actually dumb enough to try kissing her. When he came back to the warehouse, Lisa looked at him funny and asked him if he got attack by a stray cat. The scratch below his eye took a week and a half to heal.

It took him a couple weeks to get it, but he finally realized there were some consistencies in her behavior. No matter how horrible she was during the week, Misao would always be in a much worse mood by the time she and Shoka got back from Soul Society on Saturday night.

Now, as established previously, Shinji was a grown ass man. It still took him two more weeks to build up the balls to ask her about this particular subject. "So…" he began Sunday afternoon. "Do ya like Soul Society, Misao-chan?"

She read through her History chapters and shrugged. "I don't hate it. It's really hard to navigate through, though. Hisagi-san says that's because the Shinigami have more time to waste so they think it's okay to complicate things."

Shinji's brow furrowed. "Ya still call yer uncle Hisagi-san?"

She raised her chin defensively. "Yes. He's an adult I've only known for two months. So, yes, it's more appropriate to address him as Hisagi-san."

"Do ya like yer uncle Shuhei?" he pressed further. Maybe that was the problem. He already knew she had difficulties with adjusting, so maybe that was a little too much for her.

She blinked. "Yes, of course. Hisagi-san is very nice to me."

He stared at her for a moment. She didn't sound like she was lying, but then again, Misao never sounded like she was lying. Her voice and expression never changed unless she willed them to or started losing control of her emotions. But – he liked to think, anyway – that if it really bothered her, she would just tell him so. He was pretty certain she trusted him enough for that by now. Shinji decided that maybe she actually liked Soul Society more than she wanted to admit. Perhaps that was why she was always in such a terrible mood when she came back.

Thinking himself a very clever man, Shinji didn't talk to Shoka about this, assuming that he had Misao all figured out. As for her hands-off attitude, well…he'd just have to be more patient.

It was Friday and Misao was actually starting to relax and warm up near him again. "Boxers or briefs, Misao-chan?" he teased, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked wearily.

"It means I want ta know what kinda panties ya wear, koibito."

She gave him a deliberately disturbed look. "Why?"

His response was a very large, wolfish grin.

"Oh, Hirako-san, that's the most disgusting thing you've ever done!" she cried, praying to any god listening that her face wasn't turning red. She'd never be able to get the image of him masturbating out of her head. _To my panties!_, she moaned internally. _He wants to masturbate to the thought of my panties! No, no, that's disgusting…No, not exciting – DISGUSTING! _"Why do you think I would ever tell you something like that?"

He grinned again at her. "Because if ya don't, I could always just check yer panty drawer at home when yer not there." He tugged the nearest rabbit-ear flirtatiously. "Maybe I'll pick me up a memento, too."

Oh, damn. Well, he had a point there. She stared at the ground in front of her and mumbled something inaudibly.

"Oh, c'mon – it's not that embarrassing."

"Oh really?" she snapped. "Boxers or briefs, Hirako-san?"

"Neither."

She turned to him with such a horrified look that he started laughing hysterically. "I'm kiddin', I'm kiddin'," he reassured her. "Calm down. Both –during the day, it's briefs an' at night, it's boxers. An' ya didn't answer the question yer, either."

She muttered again and he grabbed her arm. "Nah, ya can't pussy outta it. Say it out loud."

"I wear a thong!" she hissed loudly. "Happy now? I wear a thong!"

Shinji couldn't answer her, because his honey-brown eyes had suddenly gone very glazed and distant. _I stand corrected,_ Shinji thought, dazed. _She's only just begun ta start the real fun of jerkin' off._

She punched him in the arm. "If you're going to picture me in nothing but my underwear, at least have the courtesy to do it after I'm gone," she snapped, flushing brightly. "That's sick, Hirako-san."

_Sicker, maybe, that I like it…_

He flashed her his devil-may-care smile. "Oh, ya weren't wearin' just yer underwear – I added a few nice lil' accessories."

"I don't want to know," she grumbled, aching to know how he pictured her.

"Which begs the question – why do ya wear a thong?" he asked casually.

"Panty lines," she muttered.

"I knew it!" he crowed. "Is there a single bone in yer body not devoted ta the practical an' sensible?"

_Yes,_ she wanted to yell back. _The ones that seem fixated on you!_

Usually, when Rukia visited Ichigo on Fridays, she would come after or just before he got out of school and wait for him at his house. Now that she was a full lieutenant, she didn't have that much time, so she didn't get to Karakura until it was already dark. When she entered through Ichigo's bedroom wall, she found the room dark and empty. By now, she was smart enough not to bother with calling out to him.

She wandered down the hall, peering into the doorways. Yuzu and Karin were fast asleep. Isshin's door was closed. The bathroom was empty. Rukia ascended the stairs and gazed out into the kitchen, living room, and dining room. She spotted a familiar head of orange hair peaking above the cushions of the sofa. Ichigo had gone back to sleeping on the couch. This was to her advantage, because it was the only place she could actually sleep beside him, since his bed was just barely big enough for him.

Sighing, Rukia dropped onto the couch next to him and cuddled up, prepared to sleep here as long as she possibly could before returning to the bed in her brother's mansion. If she were lucky, she wouldn't wake up until Ichigo dislodged her in the morning. She nuzzled his shoulder, smelling the warm, masculine scent of Ichigo. Instantly, she felt the knots in her shoulders relax. Now, here she could sleep. Here, she could actually get some rest. Which was probably why Byakuya let her go.

Ichigo could smell something wonderful and familiar and nostalgic. It smelled like…like a sheet of snow covering the mountainside. Like icicles forming over pines needles. He groaned and reflexively stretched his arms. Something warm and soft was draped across his chest. _A blanket?_, he thought blurrily. He opened his eyes and found the room still dark. _I didn't bring a blanket…_

He looked down and a shiver raced up his spine. _Rukia…Rukia!_

It could be a hallucination. But he could feel the gentle, friendly waves of her reiatsu. Just to test it, he moved his arms around her and squeezed a bit. She murmured 'no!' softly and clenched her hand in his shirt. "Okay, okay," he murmured, hugging her closely. "It's okay. I'm here."

He inhaled the scent of her hair and grinned fiercely. "I've got you again," he whispered. "I've got you again, Rukia."

He relaxed again and tried to sleep more. She opened her eyes sleepily and sat up, loosening his arms around her. He kept his eyes closed, curious to see what she would do since she thought he couldn't see her. She stroked his hair. "I have to go now, Ichigo," she said regretfully. The hair on his arms stood up as she pressed her lips to his temple. "Nii-sama worries and when he worries, he tends to verbally abuse his staff and his division."

She stood up and steadied herself. She heard the springs in the sofa move and assumed Ichigo was rolling over. Until she found herself trapped in his arms. She went completely still, unable to believe that this was really happening. His chin rested quite comfortably on her shoulder. "Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," she whispered back.

When the other Visoreds were away, Shinji had to make up ways to entertain himself.

"You're cheating," Misao accused, putting two more quarters on the table. "Raise."

"Now how could I be cheatin', darlin'? Yer winnin', fer god's sake." His eyes scanned the hand of cards he dealt himself. "Check."

"That's how I know you're cheating," she said sharply. "You can't be this old and suck at poker this much, Hirako-san. Raise."

"Fuck, I fold. No, look at this crappy hand – I'm not cheatin'!"

She examined the hand he showed her and pursed her lips. "…okay, that's a crappy hand. But I still think you're cheating."

"Well, ya could've at least made losin' entertainin' fer me by agreein' ta play strip poker," he complained.

"Oh, yes, let's you and I play a game that requires us to take off our clothes while my brother sleeps in the next room," she said sarcastically. "Why don't you light the warehouse on fire and kiss me in front of him, too. I know, while you're at it, you can also tell him our parents were horrible people who never loved him."

"Yeah, okay. I see yer point," he said, smiling slightly. "I'm getting another soda – Coke or Sprite?"

"You know I can't have caffeine anymore," she grumbled. "Sprite – and it's my turn to deal."

As he came back from the fridge with two cans in his hands, Misao was shuffling the deck with the kind of fast stacking and mixing only as expert could manage. He grinned as she began dealing just as quickly. "Say, where'd ya learn ta handle a card deck like that?"

"Mama was a really good card player – she learned it from Grandma. Grandma used to be one of those dealers in the casinos."

"Well, now, ya didn't tell me that before we started playin'," he accused. "Maybe I should be accusin' ya of cheatin'. Ya could probably do it better than –"

"Hirako-san?" she asked in concern. Shinji had gone very still and quiet. Without warning, a sickening, dark reiatsu began to overwhelm them. The cans of soda crashed to the floor and began to leak their contents all over the concrete flooring. Misao gasped for air, struggling against the sudden sensation of her ribcage being crushed by the force of this reiatsu. "What…is…happen…ing?"

She felt his arms going around her and the pressure ceased. He was pushing back the force of the pressure surrounding her by cloaking her with his own reiatsu. "Relax," he said in her ear. "Use your own spiritual pressure to push against it. You have enough to protect you – even from this."

Oh, he was using serious-voice. _Don't,_ she told herself unsteadily. _Don't get aroused right now._ "What's happening, Hirako-san?"

"Ichigo has successfully re-awakened his powers," Shinji told her grimly. "That means his Hollow is awake too. Come on – I need to subdue it before someone dies."

"But there's nothing I can do," she argued back. "I can't even beat one of you without a mask on – how am I supposed to help you suppress someone's who's totally Hollowfied?"

"You're not going to," Shinji growled. "What you're going do is come with me and stay where I can see you. I didn't save you from one crazed Visored just to watch you be eaten by another."

"If it's that dangerous, shouldn't we wake up Shoka?" she asked, alarmed.

"No, Shoka's Hollow will protect him if worse comes to worse," he replied. "Whereas you have Shojohime, whom you can't fully use just yet. Take a gikon pill."

She burst from her body and followed him out the door. He grinned. She had absolutely no trouble following him as long as he didn't use flash steps on her. "Ya know," he told her conversationally. "I can't wait ta teach ya flash steps. Ya might be able ta take the crown from the Goddess of Flash."

"You have a Goddess of Flash?"

"When someone is better than anyone else in a particular field, they're usually given some kind of title ta acknowledge it. Fer over a hundred years, the best Shunpo master has been the Goddess of Flash, Yoruichi. I don't know if ya can be the new Goddess, but I bet ya'll at least be Flash's Princess."

"I don't think Shunpo and running are the same thing, Hirako-san," she disagreed. "Maybe I could be the fastest Shinigami runner but probably not the fastest flash stepper."

She pushed her reiatsu against the increasing pressure of the one ahead of them like he told her to, trying to keep herself away from being crushed by it. Shinji suddenly skidded to a stop. "There's another signature below Ichigo's. It's getting' weaker. I think it must be Kuchiki."

"He's killing her, isn't he?" she asked quietly. She couldn't feel anything beneath the terrible reiatsu of Hollow Ichigo. "Why?"

"I want ya ta remember this, Misao. Even if ya never remember any other advice I give ya – there is never a reason," he replied seriously. "The Hollow is a creature of destruction – it doesn't care who Ichigo loves or protects. It exists only to kill. That makes them useful inside the realm of battle, but horror stories in everyday life. It has no mercy."

"I understand."

_No,_ he thought sadly. _Ya have no idea, Misao-chan._

Unless they were infested with the Hollow, no Shinigami could ever really know what 'no mercy' meant. Under the Hollow's control, a man could kill his mother, father, sister, brother, wife, lover, best friend, son, and daughter without any hesitation or remorse. When they returned to themselves, they would have no memories or knowledge of their actions. So, no, Misao didn't know what 'no mercy' meant. And if it was up to Shinji, she would never need to find out.

"Ichigo isn't in his right mind," he told her, shifting her behind the protection of his body. "Stay back on the sidelines and don't get involved – even, well, even if it goes bad, Misao."

She did not say anything or make any gesture to indicate she'd heard him. Because rather than listening to Shinji, she was listening to her zanpakuto. _"My Misao…this man cannot beat the enemy he is about to face."_ Shojohime whispered. It was as though she was standing right beside her, murmuring in her ear.

"_Are you sure?"_ Misao searched her surroundings. A young woman – the Shinigami she'd met called Kuchiki Rukia – lay still on the pavement ahead of them with a pool of blood spreading slowly beneath her body.

"_I would not tell you such a thing if I were not sure,"_ she replied curtly. _"The power of this Hollow is fully mature now – his zanpakuto's spirit was not able to control its fury anymore. If you do as he asks, Hirako Shinji is going to die."_

"_But…"_ She paused. She wouldn't be helpless, she wouldn't behave helpless, like a coward. _"How? I don't know how a Hollow fights yet."_

"_I know. You must watch what Shinji does as best you can. Do want to save this man, my Misao?"_

"_Yes, Shojohime."_

"_Then I will help you,"_ she promised. _"But you must not interfere in this fight until you have the perfect opening. You must wait as long as you can, until you are really ready to fight that creature."_

"_I will."_

"_Let Hirako Shinji wear the beast down as much as you can,"_ was Shojohime's last piece of advice._ "But remember, unless he too loses control, Hirako Shinji will die without your protection."_

Misao (for obvious reasons) found that difficult to believe.


	23. Virgin's Cleansing

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Today, I'd just like to take the time to squee about my awesome readers and reviewers. You guys made a crappy day really great, so thank you! I love hearing from you guys.

Virgin's Cleansing

She thought she was prepared to see what had happened to Kurosaki-san. She'd seen her brother out of control before. But she'd never seen a Visored crazed and fully Hollowfied the way he was now.

He stood slightly bent, like the tyrannosaurus rex inside picture books. His body had become covered in the same hard, white substance as his mask, complete with a long, thick tail and clawed hands and feet. A long mane of bright orange hair flowed back from his head. Horns pointed straight forward from either side of his face. Rows of skeletal teeth were bared at them, and Ichigo roared in fury.

"Just stay back," Shinji said calmly. "Instinct will lead him to attack the strongest reiatsu force, so as long as you don't start drawing attention to yourself, he won't attack you."

Ichigo flickered and appeared right in front of Shinji. He drew his hand back to punch through his midsection (probably how Rukia ended up in the state she was in now). Shinji flash-stepped behind him and tried to drive Sakanade between his shoulder blades. The tail came up and smacked him straight in the ribs, sending him flying into a nearby building. "Shit," he panted. "That was Sonido, not Shunpo."

He pulled on the pharaoh's mask and flash-stepped to Misao. "Take out Shojohime and release her," he commanded. He was surprised by how steadily she could meet his Hollow-shaded eyes, even if his garbled voice made her back and shoulders tense. "Use that lotus-shield thing if he gets too close to you. He can use Sonido and he'd a lot stronger than I thought."

She nodded and drew her katana out. "Sigh, Shojohime."

Shinji did not have time to try bringing the fight to Ichigo – the Hollow-man brought it to him first. Misao gasped out loud as she heard his fist make direct contact with Shinji's skull. He rolled four-hundred feet and slammed into another building.

Shinji stood up and shook himself. His head rang and his sight was going a little blurry from that blow. His left arm was bent at an extremely disturbing angle from the collision with the second building, but he was far from being out of this fight. Ichigo roared again and lunged, leaving Shinji a nice opening. One arm hanging uselessly at his side, he flash-stepped and slashed in a downward arch, hacking through the Hollow's right arm. Unfortunately for him, Ichigo immediately grew that arm back and used it to grab his left arm and hurl him to the ground several hundred feet below them, tearing the arm right from his body. Shinji's body made a crater as it landed.

He couldn't get up. He felt two broken ribs puncturing his left lung and blood ran steadily from his open shoulder joint where his left arm used to be. The world spun dizzily around him.

From the lower reaches of his vision, he could see a Cero forming between Ichigo's horns. He closed his eyes. He could only hope now that one of the Visoreds would come back and stop this before Hollow Ichigo could kill Misao and finish killing Kuchiki Rukia. But then his view of the Cero was blocked by a series of pink glass-like petals forming over his vision. He turned his head to see a stark white blade firmly planted in the ground. He heard a distinctive voice whisper "Protect your virtue, Shojohime."

Panic filled him like the blood now filling his left lung. "Misao, no," he wheezed. "No, don't…"

Once again, she ignored his pleas and listened to Shojohime instead. _"This will protect you, but only once. Hurry! Before he fires the Cero, feed your blood to my blade, Misao!"_

Shinji had spots in his vision as he watched Misao's hand descend onto the straight white blade of Shojohime. The skin of her palm broke open and blood ran down the sword. It began to glow with such a white hot light that he had to look away before it burned through his retinas. Her reiatsu rose sharply. A red light engulfed them and the petal of the shield shook as the Cero hit them.

Miraculously, neither of them were harmed (at least any more than they already were), but the petals shattered and faded as soon as the attack passed over them.

She instinctively jerked away as Ichigo appeared in front of her, swiping the claws at her, which still managed to graze the top of her chest. But that was her opening. Shojohime's rage and the reiatsu spilled over inside her veins and she shook with her own power. She spat through her teeth "Weep, Shojohime!"

A crescent of the white hot energy peeled off the blade and threw itself at him. It was fast enough to catch him off guard, but it might not have hit him if Misao hadn't been aiming directly for his face. The force of Weep cracked and shattered the mask from Ichigo's face and caused a trickle of blood to ooze from the cut on his forehead. She glimpsed a long mane of orange hair and a paper-white face before he collapsed face-first on the pavement in front of her. She ran over and pushed him on his back, placing a hand on his bare chest. He was breathing, his heart was beating, and he had no visible injuries except the small cut on his forehead. Misao had no idea if he had internal injuries, but since she had two people on her hands who obviously did, she was going to call him good. Most of the orange mane was gone now and he was regaining color back in his skin.

She went back to Shinji. "Kuchiki…first…" he managed to gasp out. "She's…dying."

"You are, too." Misao snapped. "Are you sure you can hold on another few minutes?"

He nodded. "She's about…to die, Misao." He turned his head with a grimace. Blood bubbled up from his punctured lung to his throat and ran from one corner of his mouth. He winced as he coughed it up, pushing the ribs farther into his lung. He stared up at her unhappy face. "Painful….but, won't…die…yet."

"Don't take anymore," she snapped, standing up. "It's going to make it worse."

"_Do you remember what I told you about how to use this technique?"_

"Yes, I remember." That didn't make her less nervous about it, though. If she did it wrong, Rukia could die from her mistake. She pulled the black pieces of Rukia's shihakusho over her shoulders and shoved the leftover fabric to her waist.

Two minutes later, Misao stood up and sheathed Shojohime. The hole in Rukia's abdomen was repaired and she would probably regain consciousness within another hour. She kneeled beside Shinji and searched his body with an anxious expression on her face. "What's…matter?" he gasped out. "Misao?"

She bit her lip. "You don't happen to be wearing an undershirt beneath that shirt, do you?"

"…Yeah."

She yanked the orange dress shirt open, being careful of his damaged ribs. "Shit," she muttered. The undershirt was dark blue. She closed her eyes and groaned. Shinji only seemed to be half-conscious. She took his right hand and squeezed. "Shinji."

He opened his eyes at the sound of her voice actually saying his first name. He'd never thought he'd hear that. "Yeah…babe?"

She swallowed and pulled her courage around her. "What color is your underwear, Shinji?"

He laughed weakly and gasped for air. "White, koi…"

Misao breathed out unsteadily and began unbuckling his belt. She pulled the zipper down and joked with him faintly. "I bet you pictured this in a slightly different setting."

He raised the arm he still had to touch her face with his fingertips. "You're…always…_smiling_."

"Shhh," she whispered, leaning her cheek against his palm. She swallowed the sudden tears that tried to spill over from her eyes. "I told you not to talk anymore."

Shinji couldn't help her pull the pants down over his hips, but she managed to do it just the same. She pulled until she could see the top inches of a pair of white men's briefs. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'm sorry," she told him truthfully. "If this doesn't work, you're probably going to die."

His breath was rough and painful. "Not…your…fault."

She knew he was trying to reassure her, but that didn't help her at all. Because if this didn't work, his lungs weren't what was going to kill him.

"_Pray that this man you love is worthy of that love. Or he will be cut in two at the hip."_

"Sigh, Shojohime," Misao commanded, holding her zanpakuto out. The blade flashed white, the hilt and guard glittering a lotus pattern of silver and gold. She brought the katana over her head in a wide arch. "Virgin's Cleansing…"

The blade glowed gently and she sank the metal edge into the white fabric of the underwear, cringing at the katana sliced through the cotton and then the flesh of Shinji's hips and stomach. He gritted his teeth and hissed as a weeping crimson line appeared where the edge of her blade had cut him. He hissed again as her tingling reiatsu from the glowing blade swept through him.

He was certain it was caused by his delirious mind, but Shinji felt the sensation of cold fingers brushing his cheek. A musical voice that was higher than Misao's whispered in his ear. _"You have no stain in your soul. Be healed, Hirako Shinji."_

His ribs reset themselves properly. The hole in his left lung healed. The lump on the back of his head went away. The concussion he had cleared itself. His left arm began to grow back. Finally, when the last fingertip came into existence, the bleeding wound she created with Shojohime closed up, leaving nothing but smooth skin behind.

Shinji sat up and turned to the side, coughing up the rest of the blood remaining inside his lungs. "How didja do that, Misao?"

"Shojohime loves the color white and hates the color black," Misao said, sheathing the sword again. "So she told me that if I used the power of Virgin's Cleansing, she would heal someone wearing white and mortally wound someone wearing black. But if that person committed acts of evil, she would have no mercy and wound them anyway. But apparently you're pure in Shojohime's eyes."

He thought back to the musical voice he heard and the cold hand on his cheek. "Yeah, I kinda got the impression." He looked up at her and smiled. "Did ya like takin' off my pants, Misao-chan?"

She threw his belt at his head. "Next time, I'm letting you choke on your own blood," she muttered without venom.

"Come here," he said softly. She eyed his unbuckled pants warily and shook her head, giving him an uneasy stare. He sighed and flexed his new fingers, zipping and buttoning the slacks back up. He beckoned her again. "No, really. Come here."

He motioned for her to sit between his legs and she did, drawing up her knees up to her chin. He rested his head against her back. "Ya know I'm teasin' ya, right?" he said softly. He began rubbing circles in her back. "Ya saved my ass back there. Ya saved all our asses. If it weren't fer ya, Kuchiki an' I would be ready fer our second coffins an' Ichigo would hate himself fer what he'd done."

"Can-can we not tell my brother about this?" Her voice sounded painfully strained. She realized how close he and Kuchiki had really come to dying. He was close to losing consciousness from the blood loss. Kuchiki's organs were fucked up from whatever Ichigo did to her before they arrived.

He moved even closer, until her back was leaning against his chest and he could wrap both arms under her breasts. "We don't have ta do anything ya don't want ta," he murmured. "Ya ready ta go back?"

"Yeah," she muttered, leaning back against him. It was nice to feel like she had some kind of hold over his heart, even if that was a complete and utter fabrication.

She gasped as he stood up suddenly with her still in his arms. "What are you doing? I'm not that much light than you are!" she protested. "Hirako-san!"

"Yeah, ya are," he said carelessly, flash-stepping off the street. He wondered if it would take another life or death circumstance to get her to say his name again. Probably…He glanced down as he flash-stepped into the warehouse and realized that she'd fallen asleep. He smiled slightly, whispering "I'm pathetic…"

Shinji used one hand to pull back the covers of his bed and the other to slip her underneath them. He tossed her shoes and socks on the other side of the room and stared at the ceiling as he unhooked her bra, slipped the straps over her arms, and pulled the garment out of the bottom of her shirt. Total pro. "Blue silk," he muttered, staring down at the material in his hand. "Nice choice, Misao."

She sighed through her mouth and rolled to her side, burying her face into his pillow. He threw his clothes into the garbage rather than the dirty laundry hamper – after the kind of day this particular set of clothing had, it was all pretty much toast. Especially the underwear. His hand brushed over the smooth expanse of muscle that made up his abdomen. With one technique, she reset broken ribs, fixed a hole in his lung, cleared a concussion, and re-grew his entire left arm.

"_Boy, dontcha ever underestimate Shojohime or anyone that wields her,"_ Sakanade warned as he slipped on another undershirt (now he had a white one!) and a pair of boxers to sleep in. _"That woman's tongue is as sharp as her blade. An' every time I see her, she pulls out a new trick on me…"_

"What are ya on about, fool?" Shinji grumbled, sliding into the bed beside Misao. He slipped his arms around her waist experimentally. She rolled toward him, her forehead touching the corner of his shoulder. He tensed as he felt her long fingernails pricking his side. _Oh, shit, she's gonna get mad, _he immediately thought. _She woke up an' she's gonna get mad at me fer sleepin' in the bed with her._

Her voice sounded shaky as she breathed out "Please, don't kill me, brother."

"Nobody's gonna kill ya, koibito," he whispered. "…although I really do wish ya'd stop mistakin' me fer yer brother, 'cuz it kinda freaks me out…"


	24. We Sink Together

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Everyone has been drooling for it for weeks and now it's finally here...kinda. It's not a lemon, but it is definitely on the border between a lemon and a lime. Grab a bottle of bubbles, and we got Sprite. XD Also, just a little bit of sad fluff. On a completely unrelated note, I think next chapter is going to be an Omake, which is hinted at here.

We Sink Together

Misao shifted over in her sleep and blinked at the lack of light inside the room. It was still before dawn yet. She didn't seem to be able to move. Warm air blew onto her cheek at regular intervals and there was a strangely intoxicating smell in the air around her. It was so pleasant, she didn't want to get up. She nuzzled the pillow and yawned. The blanket suddenly became tighter around her body. She gasped as she suddenly realized someone was sleeping the bed with her. A slightly slurred voice mumbled "Ya okay, koibito?"

"Hirako-san," she said slowly. "What am I doing in your bed?"

He groaned in her ear, sending chills down her spine and buried his face in her neck. "Please, please," he begged her sleepily. "Don't call me that here – now. An' we _were_ sleeping..."

She breathed his scent from the pillows and felt the way he was pressing into her back. Her head smacked straight down on the pillows as her nipples went hard. _Oh, please, no!,_ she moaned. _No, this can't be happening to me!_ She gasped again as his arms shifted under her breasts and he planted several kisses on the side of her neck. "What...what are you doing?"

"Go back ta sleep," he murmured huskily. "Just relax an' go back ta sleep. Ya know I ain't gonna hurt ya, right?"

She closed her eyes and relaxed her tensed shoulders. "Yes."

He seemed to relax slightly, too. "I'm glad ya know that, sweetheart." He tried to make sure he wasn't crushing her with his grip, but since she wasn't trying to pull away, he had to assume she was okay. "I'm not gonna hurt ya."

She swallowed repeatedly against the sudden stinging her eyes made. _It's okay, right?_, she tried to convince herself. _It's only for a little while, so it's okay to pretend that he loves me, right?_

Shinji narrowed his eyes as Misao shifted the dirty dishes into the sink and turned on the water. He'd already warned her that the warehouse had no hot water anywhere but the two showers in the back, but she was undeterred. Something wasn't right with that girl (other than the usual insanity, that is). Misao was quiet all the time, but there was something eerie about this kind of quiet. There was a strangeness in her expression, too, that made him uneasy because he couldn't quite say what it was. If it wasn't her day to see her uncle, he would have concocted a plan to cheer her up. Maybe he would come up with something for tomorrow...Or maybe...

He poured himself a glass of milk and slipped a hand up the back of her shirt when he walked by her. She continued scrubbing the plates without acknowledging his presence. He drained the glass and set it on the counter next to her elbow. Now he had two hands to slide up her shirt. He felt her shudder as his fingertips skimmed over her ribcage. She audibly caught her breath as a pair of warm, rough hands cupped her through her bra. "Somethin' ya feel like tellin' me, honey?" he whispered, squeezing gently. "Somethin' yer...worried about, maybe?"

"You do _that..._and expect me to speak?" she choked out. She was rocking her hips into his very sizable erection. He had no idea if she was aware of this, but he was _extremely_ aware of it. She wanted to come up with something disparaging to say, but all she could do was arch herself into his palms.

He started doing something wicked to the skin of her throat with his tongue and teeth. He smiled as she huffed and whined "D-don't..."

With a few gentle tugs, he pulled her breasts free of her bra. Her nipples were hard and hot between his fingers. "S-stop..." she moaned. "Shoka..."

"Already left fer Urahara's ten minutes ago," he murmured, pinching hard.

Her reaction was beautiful. He had push her against the counter to keep her standing upright. "Aaaaahhhhh...I..." _Say 'I don't want to do this'!_, she screamed at herself, with all the mercy of a German school mistress on test day. But her mouth moved exactly the way she didn't want it to "I-I want...want you, Shinji..."

"It hurts, doesn't it? Feel like yer skins gonna melt off yer body," he growled, pushing her back into the opposite wall. "Tell me what ya want me ta do, Misao."

"Touch me," she said hoarsely. Her panties were damp and she couldn't bear the fire she felt inside her body any longer. Her heart was pounding so crazily inside her chest, she was afraid it was going to explode. "Please, make it stop..."

He kissed her temple. "I will," he said huskily, putting one hand on her stomach. If she only jerked her hips a little, his hand would be inside her panties. She was tempted to do it, too. "It feels like yer ready ta come outta yer skin, doesn't it?"

Misao wanted him to lower his hand so badly she was shaking. All she got out was a pleading whimper.

He rubbed her through the blue silk of her panties, slow patient circles that made her lose her fucking mind. "Please," she pleaded with him, digging her fingers into his gold hair. "Please, Shinji, don't stop..."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby." She was shaking so hard he thought she was going to have a seizure and biting her lip with an expression on her face that said she was trying not to scream. He pinched her inner thigh. "None of that. Yer not gonna hold back on me now, Misao."

"Less talking," she growled out. "More – oh-oh-oh – FUCK!"

She swore as he stopped, making him grin as widely as he ever had. Before she could throw any more vulgarities at him, he lifted her up by the backs of the knees and forced her to wrap her legs around his waist. She felt him throbbing between her thighs and if he tried to have sex with her right there, she would have sang symphonies of joy. "Do you feel that?" he demanded, tearing her blouse and bra off her body. The fabric between them was killing him, but he wouldn't take all of her this way. "That's all you, Misao."

He ground himself into her body, growling as she arched and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Ah!" she cried, rolling her hips into him as hard as she could. "What have you _done_ to me?"

Shinji licked her neck, leaving wet trails of heat all over the flesh with that amazing tongue ring of his. "I've made you alive," he whispered shakily, tugging her earlobe with his teeth. "Isn't it wonderful?"

For the first time in their...relationship, Misao kissed him first. Without any prompting or coaxing. He would later describe it as her 'attempting to suck his soul from the gigai with her mouth'. Their tongues tangled and the flavor of metal coated her entire mouth. "Hurry," she gasped, tightening her calves around his waist and digging her nails into his shoulders. "Harder, harder – oh god, Shinji, hurry!"

"Soon," he growled through clenched teeth, digging his blunt fingernails into her bare thighs. "Soon, love."

He latched onto one pert nipple, suckling and biting.

The world seemed to dissolve around her in a white haze. She went deaf, numb, and blind for three whole minutes. Which was probably why couldn't hear herself screaming his name at the top of her voice (although he couldn't figure out _how_ – she was loud enough to make his ears ring). They both sank to the floor, shaking and breathing hard. They clutched each other to keep themselves upright.

Misao flushed brightly at the sudden position she found herself in. Her panties felt wet. Moisture dripped down her inner thighs, soaking into the fabric of his pants where she rested on his lap and her nipples were wet and tingling from his attentions. She held her breath inside her throat as he leaned forward and slipped his tongue past her lips. Shinji lightly nipped the corners of her mouth and pulled away. They stared at each other for a moment, breathing on each other's lips. Finally, Misao mumbled "I'm...I'm going to be late, Hirako-san."

Shinji sighed deeply and rested his chin on the top of her head. He hoped she couldn't feel the sudden sinking sensation inside his chest. He resisted the strong urge to grind his teeth. _So I'm Hirako-san again, am I?_, he thought bitterly, wishing he were in love with just about anyone else. God, even Hiyori was easier to get through to than this. _Apparently I only get ta be Shinji if I'm cummin' or dyin'._

"Stay here," he said finally, taking her hand so they could both stand up. He glanced over to get one last look at her. Misao looked...well, Misao looked slutty, but he fucking loved it. He wanted to devour her. Shirt and bra ripped open, small breasts jutting out proudly, nipples hard and pink, juices running down those creamy thighs, lips full and red, dark hair tangled up, and eyes dazed and smoky. _Oh, if there were a bed around an' ya had no where ta be...Ya wouldn't walk anywhere fer the next week, koibito._ "I'll go ta yer house an' grab another outfit fer ya ta wear – I think I pretty much destroyed that one."

"Yeah." To his eternal disappointment, she modestly covered herself with her hands and stared at the linoleum kitchen floor. "I'll just tell Hisagi-san I lost my homework and had to look for it or something."

_Hisagi-san,_ he thought silently to himself. _That poor bastard has idea what he's gotten himself inta. An' I bet if he ever finds out what _I_ just got myself inta, he and Shoka are gonna tag team ta kick my ass...Or they can _try_, anyway..._

Urahara gave her a hauntingly knowing smile as she walked into his shop. "You're a little late today, Shiori-kun. That's not like you. Did you have a nice week?"

She stared back at him blankly. "It was fine, Urahara-san."

"Are you excited for the contest next weekend?"

She blinked, startled. "Contest?"

"Ah, Yoruichi hasn't told you yet? The two worlds are having a contest between their zanpakuto spirits. It started as a drunken bet between Mastumoto-fukutaicho and Ikkaku-san and spread all over the Seireitei." He smiled at her genially. "I'm hosting. Hiyori and Kensei have already signed up so I'm sure the rest of the Visoreds will be handing in their applications soon. It's open to all, so I thought you might want to give it a try, Shiori-kun."

"Sounds interesting," she agreed hesitantly.

"Good!" he said, clapping his hands together. "Go and ask your uncle Shuhei about where to sign up – each division has forms for the contestants. I do, too, but I'm afraid I've already run out. Ururu just went out to fetch copies of the application forms. Have a good day, Shiori-kun."

"Sayonara, Urahara-san," she replied, stepping through the Senkaimon.

Her uncle smiled at her as she stepped outside of the great gate. "I was starting to get worried. What happened?"

"I lost an important paper that was due on Monday," she lied tonelessly. "It took me longer than I thought to find it. I apologize for making you worry, Hisagi-san."

That last part was the only sincere section of her entire speech. The rest of it was complete and utter bullshit. But he didn't need to know that. "It's alright," he assured her. "Did Yoruichi get a chance to tell you about the contest?"

"No, Urahara-san did just now, though. Are you entering?"

"Mastumoto is kind of my drinking buddy, and she's making me enter on pain of death," he admitted. "Otherwise I would probably sit this out."

"You have a drinking buddy?" Misao said incredulously.

He put a finger to his lips. "Don't tell your brother."

Her mouth hardened into a tight line of hatred. "Where is my brother, Hisagi-san?"

He hesitated, because he already knew by her posture that she knew the answer, and she was completely furious, too. "I believe Hinamori took him to meet Abarai-taicho," he finally admitted. "And then they were going to have lunch on the riverwalk. Let's go – I want you to come and meet a friend of mine who specializes in Kido."

And as they walked away, a faint whisper caught Shuhei's ear. "_I'm going to kill that bastard."_

The scary part was, he wasn't sure if she meant Shoka or Momo.


	25. Sakanade

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Okay, so I kind of lied. This won't be an Omake chapter, because it has lots of action and quite a bit of story transitions. However, the action is mostly for the enjoyment of your lovable author(ess). Also, holy shit this is a fucking long chapter!

Sakanade

The contest of the zanpakuto spirits, to be held inside a stadium being constructed in Urahara's underground room, was this Friday night. Or, rather, one hour from now. Even her brother had entered, claiming that his spirit had finally agreed to reveal herself on this one occasion, name and all.

As Misao ran out the door to meet her brother and the other Visoreds, she scanned the day's mail until she came upon two envelopes in the back of the stack. She paused inside the front doorway to tear these two open with her long fingernails. Her eyes passed over the contents of each. Misao's smile grew larger and larger with every word on those austere pages. Nearly grinning, she stuffed the papers into her purse, snatched Shojohime from the floor by her feet, and slammed the door behind her as she did.

"_Isn't this a tad...drastic?"_ Shojohime ventured quietly.

"I thought you wanted the chance to fight. You and I don't get much real action." Misao's brow was furrowed in consternation.

"_Not that. I haven't changed my mind at all about that. I meant the letters, Misao."_

"Oh." She rubbed the scar on her neck thoughtfully. "Does it bother you? I never did ask your opinion one way or the other, did I? Do you have a problem with it, Shojohime?"

"_It does not bother me. I was just inquiring as to whether or not this contents of those letters truly provides you with that much happiness." _her zanpakuto said. _"Whether you'd really thought all of this through yet."_

"This is what I really want, Shojohime. I wouldn't have done it otherwise."

"_Your brother..."_ she began hesitantly.

"Is a big boy who can take care of himself. Besides, most of his free time is spent with Hinamori-san now anyway," she added bitterly, clenching her fists.

"_You and Shoka have two separate lives, not one joined life. He needs to start living his life before it ends, Misao."_ Shojohime said gently.

Misao forced her posture to relax as she approached the same block the Urahara Shoten was located on. "Yeah, I know. That's part of the reason I did this, Shojohime. While he's off living that fabulous life, I'm stuck here waiting for him to direct mine. I don't want that anymore. I can't just sit here and wonder when he's going to notice if I'm around or not."

Shojohime privately wondered if they were still really talking about her brother, but let the matter drop.

Misao slid open the door of the Urahara Shoten and was greeted by the proprietor himself. "Come down to the underground room!" he said, waving her down the staircase in the floor. "Has your zanpakuto agreed to manifest itself for this wondrous event?"

"She has," Misao said firmly, hand briefly touching Shojohime's peach-colored hilt wrap. "Are you participating in the contest, Urahara-san?"

"Heavens no!" he said with his most charming smile, waving that fan at her again. "Me, a humble shopkeeper? Compete against the Gotei's illustrious shinigami?"

She gave him a flat stare, totally unconvinced. Lisa had already warned her that people who didn't seem like big threats were usually the biggest threats of all. As they walked downstairs, the new arrangements for this contest became clear to her. It was magnificent, and it should be, because Hachi and Tessai had worked the whole week to make it that way. A large stadium rose before them. With gates opening to two sides. Gate A for the human world, and Gate B for the spirit world. Urahara led her through the A Gate. They seemed to be on the bottom level. "Go down that hallway," he instructed her, pointing where he meant. "There's a door marked with your name down that way – according to my papers, you're number seventeen. Manifest your zanpakuto in that room and leave her there."

She bowed to him politely and turned down the corridor. Luckily, the first door she found was number sixteen ("Abarai Renji") and, true to his word, number seventeen was Shiori Misao. Urahara was still waiting for her at the entrance of Gate A, smiling as usual. "Go through to the inner arena. You have a seat in the first row. I'm sure your friends are waiting for you, Shiori-kun."

"Arigato, Urahara-san."

He only winked. "If you need anything, I'll be selling concessions at this gate."

Misao was astonished by just how many people were in the stadium. Rows and rows of people in the black shihakusho, with a few smatterings of people in the white captain's haori. Very few people were wearing anything outside of those variations – Misao herself being one of them. Another was a particular man in an orange dress shirt waving to her. "Here, Misao-chan!" Shinji called. Her uncle Shuhei smiled slightly in the seat two spaces over. "We saved a seat fer ya!"

She sat between them. The excitement and bloodlust of the crowd was heavy inside her – not like a weight. More like a weightlessness. "How did you get a seat in the front?"

Shinji grinned at her. "The front row is reserved for people whose zanpakuto are competing."

"So Kazeshini and Sakanade are both going to be here?" She felt a shock of excitement go down her spine.

Shuhei nodded. "And we get to meet the legendary Shojohime."

"Hey, Love says yer right next ta him," Shinji said, pointing down below them. In the arena below them were twenty-two doors all numbered with names embossed in gold above them. She was surprised to recognize more than a few. Number seventeen was Shojohime, number eighteen was Tengumaru, twenty-two was Kinshara, three was Haguro Tonbo, six was Kubikiri Orochi, eleven was Kazeshini, thirteen was Tachikaze, and fifteen was Sakanade. Two very large screen were set up above the posted gates, allowing them a close view of the participants in the contest.

"When does it start?"

"Twelve minutes," Shuhei said, pointing to a large clock which counted down the time. "Your brother is on the other side of the stadium." He waved from his seat and a familiar head of red-brown hair stood up and waved back.

They waited idly, Shinji explaining how this was going to work. "They're gonna attach microphones to their collars so we can hear them."

"But...shouldn't their master be able to hear what they're thinking?"

"Yeah, but that don't do the rest of us much good, does it?" he responded dryly.

"Doesn't that put everyone on a bit of a tactical disadvantage?" she asked, slightly alarmed.

"Nope." Shinji smirked. "They can hear what the zanpakuto says – but not what we say. And we're the ones who give the orders, Misao. A zanpakuto who tries to fight without listening to their master is as good as defeated out here."

"Thirty seconds." Shuhei reminded them quietly.

As the clock approached closer to it's final number, the crowd started to chant along with it. "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. ZERO!"

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I am your host Shihoin Yoruichi!" A familiar voice rang through the stadium. If Misao looked closely, she could see the caramel-skinned woman in the front row near Gate B, holding the audience's attention from the announcing platform. "Our honorable judges are Fourth Division's Unohana-taicho, Eighth Division's Kyoraku-taicho, and Eleven Division's Ukitake-taicho. In the event that there is a tie, they will decide the winner. Participants must defeat their opponent in the span of thirty minutes, Bankai is prohibited until Round Four and attempting to kill an opponent is absolutely forbidden. Anyone who tries to do so will be disqualified, and as we have Zaraki-taicho standing in for this event's head of security force, I strongly advise against that course of action. The winners of Round One get to advance to Round Two. The losers...get nothing, because they lost. Now, let's see who our first participants will be!"

Another board generated names too fast for her to see. It finally stopped on a name she didn't actually recognize.

**Zangetsu**

"I didn't know that name." Misao murmured, turning her head towards Shinji.

"Zangetsu is the zanpakuto of Ichigo," he said lowly.

Zangetsu's name above the door glowed and the door swung, admitting the entrance of a middle-aged man with dark hair, wearing dark shades and a black robe that floated around his body. He was holding what looked like a meat cleaver the size of his entire body.

The name generator started up again for Zangetsu's opponent, stopping at yet another name Misao didn't recognize.

**Engetsu**

"I don't believe it," Shinji whispered. "I don't _believe_ it! Engetsu is the weapon of Isshin – Ichigo's father! I didn't know his power had returned enough to do something like this."

Engetsu wore slate-gray robes and his dirty blond hair was lank around his features. His expression was somewhat cold.

"Participants!" Yoruichi called from the hosting box. "Begin!"

Without even requiring his release command, Engetsu turned the plain katana he held into a great silver crescent scythe. He and Zangetsu raised their weapons at the same time, and their lips formed the same words.

"GETSUGA-

-TENSHO!"

Misao inhaled sharply as the blue attack swept through the arena with insanely intense force. _I'm so glad Kurosaki-san wasn't armed with Zangetsu when I saw him. I wouldn't have stood a chance._

They struggled through most of the half hour without any indication of who might gain the upper hand. Neither of them said a word the whole time. But then Engetsu's defense was getting weaker, his attacks losing their force. "He's outta practice," Shinji said dismissively. "Old man ain't lost any of his power, but Isshin's been out of commission way longer than Ichigo."

Zangetsu pushed harder and beat Engetsu with five seconds left on the clock. "Match!" Yoruichi called. "To Kurosaki Ichigo's Zangetsu."

The audience cheered and then the generator started up again, spinning through names wildly.

**Suzumebachi**

A tiny, golden pixie-like entity zipped about the stadium faster than an insect. "Suzumebachi belongs to the Second Division captain, Soifon-taicho. I don't envy the zanpakuto who fights her."

Shinji shook his head. "Rank of the master is absolutely no indication of victory. It's all dependent on the zanpakuto's abilities – their strengths and weakness."

The screen flashed the next name on it's electronic board.

**Kazeshini**

Shuhei's face went very pale as he abruptly stood up, clutching the metal rail shielding the audience. This door didn't open – it shattered and a gray whirlwind swirled up the sand of the arena's packed floor. High-pitched laughter traveled from the microphone attached to Kazeshini to the stadium's speakers, grinding against their ears.

Kazeshini was blackish-red all over, his hair and skin mottled like some demonic marble, with icy blue eyes lacking any pupils or sclera.

"Participants – begin!"

"Do not cause her serious injury unless you must," Shuhei instructed in a low voice.

Kazeshini chuckled menacingly. "Here's what I don't think ya understand, pardner – you don't call the shots." The screen showed his large, feral grin. "I do. And I'm gonna rip this little bee apart!"

"Kazeshini, do NOT-"

"Shuddup!" his zanpakuto snarled. "I'll just cripple her a bit, so sit yer sissy ass down! Kare! Reap!"

The release command gave him a pair of what looked like double-sided sickles, attached together by a chain and the end of each. She could truly see why her uncle feared this crazed spirit. She squeezed his tense forearm and he laid a hand on top of hers, anxiously squeezing back.

Suzumebachi chortled in her tiny throat. "Jinteki shakusetsu – sting all enemies to death!"

Suzumebachi was insanely fast – but so were Kazeshini's blades. The little pixie-girl wasn't fast enough to dodge two blades at ones. Kazeshini defeated her and crowed for more. "Match! To Hisagi Shuhei's Kazeshini!"

**Haineko**

She grinned and bounced her large chest at the cheering audience members, cat's tail swishing. Out of her stiff auburn hair, two cat ears protruded. She bowed theatrically to the crowd, clearly adoring the attention of the cheering fans.

**Wabisuke**

A few in the crowd chuckled, thinking that Wabisuke looked just as morose as his owner. Black hair hung in front of a mournful face. The thin body was weighed down by chains and a heavy block. Several rows away from them, a grim-faced blond man groaned. Among all of the contestants, Haineko and Senbonzakura were the worst Wabisuke could possibly face.

"Participants – begin!"

"Omote o agero – raise your head." the miserable-looking man intoned.

"Unare!" the catgirl called. "Growl!"

Misao had to feel at least a little sorry for Wabisuke's owner, despite the crowd's joy. The fight was over so fast it was almost humiliating. Haineko didn't even get a scratch on her. "Match! To Matsumoto Rangiku's Haineko!"

**Tobiume**

Next to Shoka, Momo clapped her hands excitedly. "That's her!" she sighed happily. "That's my Tobiume!"

Tobiume looked remarkably like her mistress, especially compared to the other spirit's they had seen. Brown-eyes, and brown hair too, long and cut with straight bangs across her brow. She was dressed very traditionally – a long kimono in pastel colors and an unusual decoration in her hair. The only thing that seemed out of place was the long pink ribbon hovering around her shoulders. A large gold bell hung from each end of the ribbon.

**Sakanade**

Her breath caught as she realized this was what she's been waiting months to see.

He – it was most certainly a man – was quite possibly the most visually interesting person she's ever seen. Her eyes were fixed to the stadium screen as her brain tried to figure out what the fuck she was seeing.

His hair was midnight black with bangs that fell into his eyes. The rest was arranged into haphazard spikes, some of which were tinted bright magenta. His right eye was dark brown, but dead and hollow as a void – more like a stone than an eye. His left eye swirled blue and silver, as though it were filled with some slowly morphing liquid rather than an iris. Tight, dark blue jeans that looked soft as butter were plastered to his thin hips and his shirt was lilac with a series of rounded designs in magenta, pink, and navy.

This kind of color scheme could lead one to conclude that Sakanade had slightly effete leanings, except that he turned his head to the screen and smiled directly at her in a way that made her feel like her favorite dress was melting off her body. Through the microphone attached to his collar, she heard his drawling murmur of "Mi-saoooo-chaaaaan."

Her eyes widened as her panties suddenly became damp. She had to close her eyes against the sight of him before she embarrassed herself in public. There was a tongue ring inside his mouth just like the one in Shinji's.

"Participants – begin!"

In the microphone, Sakanade's slightly grating, low voice said "Whaddya want me ta do, Shinji?"

Misao glanced over at Shinji, who wasn't even looking into the arena. He was completely relaxed, slouching in his seat with his eyes closed. "Finish her off quickly. She won't take you long. No blood. And don't frighten her," he added as an afterthought. "Just disarm her."

Sakanade smirked. "I can do that."

Tobiume narrowed her dark eyes suspiciously. "Hajike - snap!" she cried, pulling out a katana with jutte-like prongs from her long sleeves. "If you won't come, I will."

The blade glowed as she swung and a ball of flame hurled from the katana's length. Sakanade calm drew his unreleased form and held it drawn in front of his face. Flames crashed harmlessly against the steel. He didn't even blink. Tobiume scowled and whirled around, the bells at the end of her ribbon throwing more balls of flame. Sakanade didn't even bother deflecting. He simply dodged and then laughed at her. "My turn!" he cooed. "Taorero. Collapse."

Misao had never seen Shinji's shikai. After that night, she was very glad she'd never seen it.

Sakanade didn't even have to hold onto the strange sword that was himself. The hilt had become a circle which orbited without effort around his wrist, the blade traveling in lazy circles. The straight edged zanpakuto had become white and, strangely enough, there were five holes along its length. And was something wrong with her eyesight or was Sakanade surrounded by a pink mist?

Shinji chuckled. "It's not yer eyes."

She jerked her head away from the arena. "Nani?"

"Ya were squintin', so I thought ya were prolly thinkin' yer eyes have gone bad. But that ain't it," he said with a grin. "Just watch."

Tobiume threw another of those great fireballs. It was so wide it was almost painful. Sakanade laughed, clearly entertained by this. "Where are ya aimin'?"

He rushed at her and Tobiume didn't do anything to move away. Sakanade slashed, ripping open her right sleeve. She looked around herself wildly, looking confused. "Don't try ta figure it out," he said, lips twitching with amusement. "Ya won't guess."

He lunged at her again, this time from behind and she actually moved into him, stepping backwards. In a millisecond, Sakanade stepped on the troublesome ribbon, snatched the jutte-pronged katana from her hands, and held her wrists behind her back.

"Match! To Hirako Shinji's Sakanade."

"What did he do to her?" Misao demanded irately. "He had her floundering down there like a fish in the grass. What did he do?"

"I can't tell ya – Shojohime may have ta fight Sakanade later."

"_More the fool he is,"_ Shojohime whispered to Misao. _"I am already quite familiar with Sakanade's devious tricks. Don't worry about it."_

Hiyori's zanpakuto, Kubikiri Orochi struggled with another called 'Zabimaru'. Their time on the clock finally ran out and the judges declared Kubikiri Orochi the winner at last. The second Visored victory was Tachikaze beating a strange creature called Ashizogi Jizo. Then the seventh pair was announced.

**Shojohime**

Shinji sat up alertly. Misao could not have been prouder of her beautiful zanpakuto at that moment. Shojohime stepped out on her tall white heels with grace and nobility that fit her name. For once, Shinji was utterly speechless. As always when she was feeling particularly strong, her pale blue eyes glittered like the diamonds on her nails. Pearls wrapped around her white throat and trailed down from her long, pale pink ponytails. The silver and golden lotus-shaped crown atop her head gleamed in the perpetual sunlight of the underground stadium. She calmly folded her arms across her well-formed chest and waited for her opponent to appear.

**Tsumehira**

A woman dressed in black buckskin and wolf-gray fur stepped onto the packed sand, her deeply golden eyes sweeping the stadium. A wild mane of curling cobalt hair framed her pale, harsh face. She smiled coldly, revealing a set of sharp yellowing teeth. Her dark boots made no sound against the packed earth flooring.

"Nice to see you, 'Hime." Her voice was low and throaty.

"I'm amazed he let you off your leash." Shojohime's voice was a sharp contrast with Tsumehira's – high and bell-like.

"Participants – begin!"

"Misao," she said softly. "This is your brother's zanpakuto. What do you want me to do?"

And Misao answered just as softly "Crush her, Shojohime."

Shinji was staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time in his life.

"Very well." Shojohime answered steadily.

On the other side of the stadium, Shoka was throwing the mother of all fucking fits. "Withdraw," he commanded out loud in a harsh whisper. "For fuck's sake, Tsumehira, withdraw! That's my sister's zanpakuto!"

Tsumehira never responded.

Shojohime stood at the stadium center calmly. Tsumehira circled her like a hungry wolf, and she was a dying animal. She gave a yellowed grin and shot her hands out. "Himei," she growled, grabbing a pair of black-handled sai that suddenly appeared. "Scream."

"Tansoku," Shojohime said, holding an empty hand toward the floor. The white-bladed shortsword was in her hand. "Sigh."

Tsumehira lunged, her hands blurring she wielded the sai so quickly. Shojohime had no trouble keeping up. "Smile. Smile." Her blade moved so fast she was able to peel off two attacks with only one sweep. "Smile."

Tsumehira ducked under the barrage and lunged forward again, stabbing. A scratch appeared on Shojohime's upper thigh. She turned and whirled, sweeping out a kick with those white heels that punched a hole in Tsumehira's stomach. She added a punch to the face with the hilt of her white blade that sent her into an arena wall. "You are weak," she said, keeping her words carefully measured. "And you are weak because you are disobedient, Tsume. Come to me at full strength or don't come at all. Smile."

"Match! To Shiori Misao's Shojohime."

A zanpakuto called Senbonzakura flattened Tengumaru and Rose's Kinshara was beaten by an ice-dragon named Hyorinmaru. Lisa's Haguro Tonbo was defeated by Hozukimaru, rounding out the last of the Visoreds. The last match in Round One was Gegetsuburi versus Sode no Shirayuki. Sode no Shirayuki was the only zanpakuto, in Misao's humble opinion, that could have possibly hoped to compete with Shojohime in terms of looks.

"Match! To Kuchiki Rukia's Sode no Shirayuki." Yoruichi finally called. "Intermission!"

Round Two began with Sakanade thoroughly kicking Kubikiri Orochi's ass (resulting in much screaming and swearing from Hiyori). Senbonzakura beat Hozukimaru and Hyorinmaru beat Kazeshini. Surprisingly, Sode no Shirayuki was able to overpower Tachikaze. Not surprising was Haineko being finished off by Shojohime in less than ten minutes. She just got too cocky. Zangetsu had received the 'automatic entry' for this round, which meant he didn't have to fight and was automatically in Round Three.

**Zangetsu**

**Hyorinmaru**

This was another fight that nearly took the full thirty, but in the end, Hyorinmaru fell to Zangetsu.

**Senbonzakura**

**Sode no Shirayuki**

The crowd was whispering furiously around them. "What are they all whispering about?" Misao asked, looking up at the stands above them. Her stomach churned in an unpleasant way. "They're all so eager and bloodthirsty."

"Participants – begin!"

"Mai." Sode no Shirayuki said immediately, pulling her white katana from thin air. "Dance."

The audience held their breath as Senbonzakura drew his blade and pointed it toward the ground. Was he doing Bankai? Bankai was forbidden in this round.

The blade landed in the packed sand, tip sunken into the soft earth. His voice was quiet, but they all still heard him. "I forfeit."

Gasps and more whispering. "Why did he do that?" Misao said in amazement. "He's good – he could have mopped the floor with her!"

"Senbonzakura belongs to Kuchiki Byakuya," Shuhei said quietly. "And Sode no Shirayuki belongs to Kuchiki Rukia – his lieutenant and little sister."

"Byakuya Kuchiki wouldn't let anything harm Rukia an' by extension, Sode no Shirayuki – even his own zanpakuto." Shinji snorted. "He would accept the shame of quittin' before lettin' Senbonzakura draw his sword against her."

**Sakanade**

**Shojohime**

Shinji smiled weakly and Misao just blinked back. "Participants – begin!"

"I think by now you know that Sakasama no Sekai won't work on me, Sakanade."

"I'm sure ya know the same is true fer Virgin's Cleansing." He gestured to his lack of black or white apparel. "An' Smile is child's play ta me."

They faced each other on the blood-spattered sand. "What – I don't get no hug?" Sakanade cracked a grin. "After all these years, ya don't even say hello?"

Shojohime stared at him dispassionately. "I want you to know that I utterly despise you." Her words were even and barely above a whisper, but with those microphones, they heard every word. "And the only thing keeping me from killing you is the thought of Misao going to prison."

The tension in the air was thicker than ever as they began circling each other. "Now we both know ya don't mean that," he said, inching slightly closer. "Ya could've let Shinji die, but ya didn't."

"I didn't say I hated your master. I said I hate _you_," she countered viciously, trying to stab him through the heart. "If I hated your master, I would have simply cut him in two and told Misao he died because his soul was tainted."

Misao's face was now paper white and Sakanade's face had lost all of it's good humor. "It's nice ta see that some things don't change," he said, dodging out of the way. "Even after all these years, yer still a vainglorious, _frigid_ bitch."

"Careful, Sakanade. Don't hurt yourself," she said coldly. "You're starting to use words far too big for your intelligence level."

"I think we established a long time ago that my intelligence level is above average." Like Shinji, he could apparently drop that manner of speaking at will. "For example, I know that you being this angry with me makes you an idiot."

"Don't you ever speak to me like a child," she said lowly.

"But you're still a little girl," he said smirking and raising his eyes to her mistress in the stands. "See? A cute, innocent little girl."

Even through the excitement of the crowd, Misao's head threatened to be completely consumed by the incredible amount of rage Shojohime was producing. "Don't look at her! You don't go near her! You don't even think about her!" she snarled. "Everything you touch _dies_!"

He stopped and stared at her with such a look of surprised horror that it was almost painful. That gave her the perfect opening – which is how she stabbed him through the shoulder. Sakanade was sent to his knees by the force of her pushing the blade through his shoulder and then pulling it out.

"Naze?" he gasped. "Why would you do that to me, 'Hime?"

"Because I can," she replied simply.

He narrowed his eyes at her. And then grabbed both knees and shoved her to the sand. "Don't play with me, little girl," he said harshly, pinning her legs beneath him. "You don't have the kind of strength to take me on – not yet."

She spat in his face and headbutted him, the lotus crown gouging his face so that he'd back off of her. She flash-stepped behind him and used that hilt-punching maneuver to get him back in the sand. "I hate you," she hissed, grinding his face into the dirt, making Sakanade cough on blood and sand. "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"

He turned slightly and elbowed her in the ribs. The entire crowd – including Misao and Shinji – gasped as the sound of Shojohime's ribs breaking was audible. She gasped and Sakanade caught her before she could roll into the dirt. He snatched the microphones off of their collar and the fans cringed as he crushed them beneath his palm. He leaned toward her ear, turning his face into her neck so that the cameras couldn't catch the movements of his lips. Whatever he said made Shojohime's fingers drop her katana in surprise.

That surprise allowed Sakanade to pick up his weapon and he drove it into her back, out her stomach, into his own stomach and right through his own back. And as they both collapsed together, Sakanade grinned and sighed "Gotcha."


	26. Goodbye, Koibito

Paradox of Nihilism

Good-Bye, Koibito

_He turned slightly and elbowed her in the ribs. The entire crowd – including Misao and Shinji – gasped as the sound of Shojohime's ribs breaking was audible. She gasped and Sakanade caught her before she could roll into the dirt. He snatched the microphones off of their collar and the fans cringed as he crushed them beneath his palm. He leaned toward her ear, turning his face into her neck so that the cameras couldn't catch the movements of his lips. _

"_We still love you, koibito. We swear on our life that we do."_

_Why isn't he saying anything?_, Misao thought unhappily, staring back at her brother. _Why is he just sitting there?_

"_Misao, you just told him that you passed a GED exam without his knowledge and now have been accepted into a college nearly seven hundred miles away from Karakura. Give him a small moment to recover,"_ Shojohime chastised. _"He didn't expect to lose you this way."_

_He probably always assumed that I would stay and go to college._

"_Probably,"_ she agreed._ "But you're also only sixteen and you never gave him any clues that you were thinking about doing this, Misao. He's probably thinking that for months, you were planning to leave him and never even hinted on it. Whether you would like to acknowledge it or not, you've just executed a carefully planned betrayal against Shoka."_

I_ betrayed _him_?_, Misao snarled. _I'm not the one who spends most of their free time with a little lieutenant girlfriend now!_

"_Yes,"_ Shojohime allowed. _"But Shoka was always very open about his relationship with Hinamori-san, while you've done many things with Hirako-san – sexual and otherwise – that you've forbidden him from ever telling Shoka. And Shoka never gave you any reason to believe he was simply going to leave you."_

"I…I don't know what to say," Shoka said faintly. "Are you asking me or telling me, Misao?"

_If you say yes, then I'm only asking you. If you say no, then I'm telling you._ To Shoka, she said "I'm asking you, Shoka-nii. I really want to do this, but I want your permission. Please. This is a great opportunity that I would not like to waste."

"Well, yes – it's college. But Misao, it's nearly seven miles away from here. And you've just turned sixteen. I-I won't be there to protect you if something happens and I…I'll just be worried about you," he said lamely. "That's too far for me to buy a ticket to see you…"

_You don't need to protect me. Starting today, I make myself the strong sibling – even if I have to be the stupid one, too._ "My tuition will cover the cost of a laptop, Shoka-nii. I can chat to you and e-mail you. And the dorms there have a phone, so you can call me during the day…"

"Won't Karin and Yuzu miss you? Won't you miss them?"

"Yes," his sister said emotionlessly, with her placid, blank features. "But I only got to see them once a week and they have other friends. I'm sure we'll get along fine."

"What about Hirako-san? You seem to hang out with him a lot," he probed further, not letting this drop. "And Uncle Shuhei – you won't get to see either of them anymore."

Misao momentarily froze inside her mind. Because she honestly blocked Shinji out whenever she thought about this plan. _He doesn't love you,_ she told herself, punishing her hear mercilessly. _He'd leave you eventually anyway. Shoka does love you and even he would leave you when you got old enough to legally move out._

"Hirako-san enjoys teasing me, so he'll only be bored for a little while until something else amuses him. And Hisagi-san…" She bit her lip and her stomach churned with guilt. She was having to harden herself against Shinji and this plan was partially created out of her spite for Shoka, but Shuhei was the one person she would truly miss in the purest form, with no uncertainties, anger, or blame to taint it. He patiently answered her endless streams of questions, was sensitive to her nostalgia when he began to remind her too much of her father and seemed…well, fond of her. "I'll just have to give Hisagi-san a proper goodbye. I'm sure if I send letters to Urahara-san, he can forward them to him."

"So…you're really sure?" Her brother's emotions were both hurt and hopeful, making her stomach clench painfully again. He was hurt that she had brought this up and hoped that she would say she needed time to think it over. Or even better, that she would just change her mind altogether. Perhaps that was why he had put her through that questioning. "This is what you want, Misao?"

She looked away from him so that his expression wouldn't make her cave. From that moment on, she really did feel like the strong sibling. Because she suddenly realized that Shoka was never going to tell her no. Even if he hated the idea to his very core, Shoka was too weak to say no. He was emotionally incapable of it. That made her feel a sharp sting of pity for him somewhere deep inside herself. But she still gritted her teeth and said "Yes, Shoka-nii. I want to go to college. I'm really sure."

Pity right at this moment wouldn't prevent the resentment she felt towards him on an everyday basis now. And her spite wouldn't make him stop wanting to please her. They would have to stop this endless circle. Even if it took her emotionally stabbing her brother in the back to make it end.

He nodded and stared at the floor with a stricken expression on his face. He probably thought that if he tried to stop her, it would make her resentment build into hatred.

After this day, Misao wasn't going to make him keep trying to decide between her and his future.

And she wouldn't allow Shoka to sway her choice between him and her own, either.

Shinji stared up at the familiar night sky above the warehouse and wondered if this was what it felt like to be stabbed through the heart. Personally, he'd never experienced that particular injury._ She's leavin', 'Nade. Just like that. She's gonna just leave me._

"_She ain't leavin' ya – she's leavin' her brother. Ya just happen ta be in the same place."_

_Ya think so?_

"_Yeah. I think she's miserable over there, Shinji. She feels like he's abandoning her fer that cute lieutenant with the big brown eyes."_

_I don't know what ta do._

"_Tell her, baka."_

_I want ya ta tell me ta do somethin' – not tell me ta do somethin' stupid_, Shinji said sourly.

"_I'm serious."_ Sakanade insisted.

_Why? What good would it do me, 'Nade? She don't love me, so it would only make sayin' goodbye really awkward._

"_What if she does, Shinji? Hypothetically speaking, of course,"_ he added hastily.

He shook his head. _Ya couldn't see her, 'Nade. She wants ta do this. Really wants ta. She's always been the type that really loved school an' somethin' like this… I can't kill somethin' that makes her that happy. I can't just tear apart her dream like that. Even if it would mean she MIGHT stay._

"_Then yer gonna be really lonely an' unhappy, Shinji."_

_I can live with that_, Shinji replied stubbornly.

"_Can ya?"_

He had the distinct impression that Sakanade was grinning at him.

Misao tugged down her favorite skirt. She was in her best outfit and her hair was carefully pinned into a knot at the top of her head. She was even wearing a little bit of make-up…but just a little. Today, she was leaving Karakura and saying goodbye to everyone she was familiar with.

The first people on the list were Yuzu and Karin that morning. "I can't believe you're leaving!" Yuzu said, weeping openly. She hugged Misao, startling her. As Misao could rightly attest to, Yuzu always was the more emotional sister. "I'm going to miss you so much, Misao-chan."

"Yuzu, try not to kill her," Karin said dryly. "Relax, it's not like we're at her funeral. She's just going to college."

Misao and Karin shook hands. Misao smiled slightly, lifting just one corner of her mouth."Sayonara, Karin."

"Aa." Karin mirrored her smile, just a small curving at the corner. "Sayonara, Misao."

"Sayonara, Yuzu."

"Sayonara, Misao-chan!" Yuzu wailed, running and burying her face in her bemused aniki's shoulder where she could sob for a good twenty minutes.

Shoka and Misao stepped through the Senkaimon. Momo and Shuhei were there waiting for them on the other side. Momo smiled at her brightly. "It's so sad to see you leave," she said, giving her a large hug. "But I'm happy you've found such a great opportunity!"

Misao had to give Momo one thing – she'd never pretended to like her and had on occasion been pointlessly cruel to her, but through it all, Momo had always remained just as gracious, friendly, cheerful with her as she had from the first day they met. And she was completely sincere. So Misao hugged her back stiffly. "Thank you for your well wishes, Hinamori-san," she said honestly. "I will try not to waste this chance."

They were there for an hour before Misao turned to Shoka. "Can I…just have a few minutes with Hisagi-san…alone? Before we go?"

He nodded wordlessly and took Momo's hand. When they had disappeared, Shuhei looked at her for a moment before holding his arms slightly away from his body. She hardly recalled closing the distance between them before he was hugging her. To her great shame, tears were streaming down her face and soaking the front of his shihakusho. How could he always seem to know what she wanted and needed? "You might be the person I miss most," she whispered, happy that for once in her life, she was able to verbalize exactly what she felt. "I'm so glad I met you, Uncle Shuhei."

He smiled down at the top of her black head. Shuhei hugged her, bare arms going across her shoulders. "I'm glad you reminded me of why I'm glad, too."

She pulled away and wiped her eyes, taking a few shaking breaths. She was able to control herself and look almost normal after a few minutes. "I probably won't be able to see you again for a long time, so I just wanted to say that."

"Hey, it's not that bad. I'm the lieutenant – I can assign myself to any mission I want," he said with a smirk.

She bowed to Urahara and Yoruichi as she left the shop. "It's been…a very interesting experience to know you – Urahara-san. Yoruichi-san," she said. "I thank you both for what you've done for us."

"You're too much." Urahara smiled and waved that fan, as per usual. "You're making me blush, Shiori-kun."

Yoruichi smiled and winked at her as she left. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kiddo."

The Visoreds were the last people they said goodbye to you. They were all very calm and relaxed. To Misao's extreme relief and eternal gratitude, no one cried or glomped her at this goodbye. They all said polite farewells and wished her a good journey and much success.

Shinji grinned at her and saluted. "Don't forget ta write," he joked. "An' make sure ya pack a set of gikon pills – never know when they'll come in handy."

"I will," she promised.

Shinji looked around the room quickly. Shoka was talking to Lisa and Love in the kitchen and the only people who would see him do it were Hachi and Hiyori. Hachi wouldn't tell – he was both too polite and too tight-lipped. Hiyori knew – or at least guessed – how miserable this whole fucking situation was making him, so she wouldn't either. Although she would tease him mercilessly later on.

For a scant second, Shinji's lips ghosted across her like a sigh. The only reason she knew they had been there was that familiar tingle. Her eyes grew large with surprise. He smiled. "If some creepy guy starts hittin' on ya an' tryin' ta feel ya up, call me – I'll come an' kick his ass."

She actually smirked at him. "But Hirako-san, I make such good friends that way – after all, that's how I met you."

He shook his head and laughed, because it felt like he might cry if he didn't and at four-hundred and eighty-five years old, he was decidedly too old for that. "Ya know I can't resist when ya act all cute like that."

"Like what?" she countered, still smirking. Why did it feel like she was on the verge of crying?

Shinji shoved her a little. "Ah, get outta here, smartass!" He smacked her rear lightly. "Go…be a rocket scientist or some shit."

She snorted. "Or some shit, indeed, Hirako-san."

Misao glanced around the packed station, nearly ready to throw up from the rolling emotions inside her heart. _Ah, the perils of a large crowd_, she sighed internally. She and three suitcases boarded the train and she stared idly out of the window, wondering if she would ever stop feeling like her heart had been carved out with a butcher knife and stomped on for some reason.

Her eyes went wide and her lips parted as a familiar golden-haired figure waved down at her from the roof of the train station. She waved back, dazed. He sat right on the edge of the roof and rested an elbow on one knee. He propped his chin in his hand, just grinning down at her in that creepy/sexy way that was purely Shinji.

So, she did something she'd never done it front of him before. Misao forced the tense, unused muscles of her face into the largest, brightest smile she could manage, showing him a row of pearl white teeth.

His heart beat faster. It was like was the moon coming up from behind the clouds on a stormy night.

He jumped down from the roof and ran to her window.

They stared at each other for a moment before she leaned forward, parting her lips and blowing a film of steam over the glass.

It was backwards, but that had never been a problem for him.

'Tell you a secret?'

He nodded. Fuck, how much faster could his heart go before he died?

She bit her lip and rubbed the scar on her neck. Soon, the glamour he put on it would wear away without him reapplying it every day. She'd have to think of something creative to cover it up.

Or maybe she just wouldn't.

'I'd love to kiss you'

His head jerked up to her face.

She was still smiling a little bit, with a bright pink blush spreading across her high, thin cheekbones.

_Good gods, can ya make me love ya more, Misao?_

He grinned at her and wrote backwards on the window so she could read it. His penmanship was surprisingly excellent.

'KITCHEN'

He watched her bite her lip harder and picked at the scar of her neck. Her cheeks were brilliantly red.

'…evil'

He grinned again and placed a gentle kiss on his fingertips, pressing them high on the smudged glass. Still smiling that smile of a thousand stars, she kissed her own fingertips and placed them over his. They were fingers to fingers and chest to chest, only separated by the layer of heated, crystallized sand. The glass fogged and they rested their foreheads together.

They were still smiling as the train pulled away.

Misao was surprised to find that she didn't feel as though her heart had been carved out anymore.

She was able to give it to someone, right through a layer of heated, crystallized sand.

She glanced to the side.

It was still written on the fogged-over glass.

'goodbye koibito'


	27. The Vanishing Act

Paradox of Nihilism

The Vanishing Act

A/N: Ain't I just an evil bitch for doing that? Don't worry – I'm sure after this chapter, you'll want to beat my head in with a blunt object. I'm so close to reaching my milestone of the double-digit review count! I'm so excited! Thanks to all of you guys who take the time to read, to review, or just to watch and giggle at the things I come up with – thank you!

Four years later…

Walking the streets at night was something Shinji found himself doing often now. He had a carefully set up route, too.

"_Somethin' strange is lingerin' in the air around here, Shinji."_ Sakanade warned._ "I don't like it. There's somethin' bad comin' our way."_

_I know, 'Nade. I can feel it, too._

The summer night was peacefully still and quiet as he began his usual rooftop circuit. From the warehouse, he jumped to the Kurosaki Clinic, letting each of the reiatsu signatures inside wash over him before moving on. Isshin, Karin, and even the slight hum of Yuzu.

Right next door, boiling like a pressure cooker of power, was Ichigo and just below that, was Rukia and their erstwhile roommate Chad. Although it was nearly impossible to pinpoint there was a faint flickering below all of that. It was faint because, according to Isshin, the fetus was only seven weeks old.

From the Kurosaki's section, he dropped by Shoka's, where his steady, controlled reiatsu said nothing was amiss at the Shiori house.

_Why do I still keep comin' here?, _he asked himself with a sigh. _Does some part of me believe that if I keep comin' around, she'll just show up one day? I don't even know if she fuckin' _remembers_ me._

After Shoka, he checked up on Uryu and Orihime's apartment. Uryu was not in, but Orihime emitted a steady, contented flow of reiatsu. Sleeping, probably.

His last stop in the circuit before returning to the warehouse was Urahara's Shoten. Tessai, Jinta, and Ururu were sleeping if one judged by their reiatsu signatures. Kisuke and Yoruichi were still awake (and probably getting completely plastered if he knew those two).

Shinji shifted on his heels and was about to turn and walk away when something at the end of the street caught his eye.

Or rather, it was some_one_.

He crouched down on the roof so that he wouldn't be outlined against the moonlight. He always smothered his reiatsu as a matter of course so he knew they couldn't spot him that way.

He squinted in the darkness at the face the moonlight illuminated for him.

For a moment, he couldn't figure out if he was looking at a man or a woman. Certainly it was an adult. It was either an effeminate man in girly clothes, or fairly tall woman with short hair. As his eyes adjusted to this new way of seeing, he finally decided that, because they had a nicely formed chest, it was definitely a slightly androgynous woman.

Shinji would guess that she was nearly as tall as he was, but lean – small breasts and hips and long legs. A narrow, well-muscled body. She was wearing a pair of gray cloth shorts that cut off at mid-thigh and a pale yellow tank top. Her feet were completely bare. A zanpakuto was slung across her thin shoulders. She had short black hair cut so that it would neatly fall around her face and rest on her neck, with bangs falling into her eyes.

The moonlight shined off of her eyes, making it look as though they were made up of two tiny moons rather than sclera, pupil, and iris. It made trying to discern their color impossible.

When he finally examined the features of her face that was when he realized who he was sharing at. It wasn't surprising – it had been four years and she had grown into an adult now. She looked a less like Hisoka and Shuhei now. Estrogen had transformed her face into something completely unique. Sharply angled, fine bones set in a blank, bored expression. Peach-colored hilt wrap on the zanpakuto.

Of course, those could have been a coincidence – except the choker around her neck looked very much like the one Hisagi Shuhei wore around his. And the choker couldn't quite cover up the teeth-shaped scar clearly defined against the skin.

"Misao," he whispered.

She turned and ran down the street, toward the river. He jumped down from the roof and sprinted to the end of the block to follow her.

Nothing.

The street going towards the river was completely empty. It was as if she'd never been there. He hadn't even been able to feel any reiatsu from her. He ran down the street anyway, only stopping when he reached the bend over-looking the river itself. She was nowhere in sight. "Damn it!" he swore, kicking a telephone pole hard enough to crack the wood. "Damn ya! Ya run too fuckin' fast!"

It really was as though he'd simply hallucinated Misao.

Shinji slumped against a lamp post and sighed. "Man, this sucks."

Momo snuggled happily into the familiar couch as Shoka flipped through the television channels for the movie they were looking for. Aha – success! Return of the Jedi. "I had the funniest dream the other night," Momo sighed, taking a sip of orange soda and grabbing a handful of popcorn as the opening credits rolled. "Your sister and I went to a tea party with Rangiku-san."

"Does Rangiku-san drink anything but sake?" Shoka asked with a laugh. He was well aware of most of the lieutenants' quirks by now.

"You know," Momo said brightly with a slight giggle. "I don't think she does? Is Misao still not answering her phone?"

"Nope, still not answering," Shoka sighed. "She usually doesn't whenever she has huge exam to study for, so I'll just leave her alone. She probably has work when she's not sleeping, anyway."

Momo was still uncertain, but since this was his sister and not hers, she let it go. She snuggled comfortably into his side and proceeded to enjoy the dubious acting talents of a young Harrison Ford.

Shuhei paced the lieutenant's quarters inside the Ninth Division barracks with a kind of panic Kira hadn't seen for six and a half years – since the Winter War. "What's going on Hisagi?" he asked, his usually morose expression now one of confused concern. "You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown."

The tendons and muscles in Shuhei's body bulged as he ground his teeth and clenched and unclenched his hands. "She's gone, Kira. I can't find her anywhere. It's been almost two weeks and _I can't fucking find her!"_

"Have you checked – "

"Everywhere!" Shuhei barked. "_Everywhere_, Kira. Two weeks and she's completely vanished. I've even had you, Matsumoto, Madarame, and Ayasegawa helping me. My niece has gone missing, Kira."

"Hinamori-" Kira began.

"_No_! Hinamori is Shoka's girlfriend. If she or Kurosaki find out, one of them will almost certainly tell Shoka. Absolutely none of this can get to Momo-san or Rukia-san."

Kira gave him a very somber stare. "Hisagi, I think you have to tell him. You can't hide it forever – sooner or later, someone in the human world will look for her and none of us will be there to keep them for snooping around. We can't be there twenty four hours a day."

"One more week," Shuhei said stonily. "Kira, please – help me for one more week. All of you – give me another week and if we still can't find her, I'll tell him."

"Okay, Hisagi." Kira clapped his friend on the back. "I'm sure she's out there somewhere. We'll find her."

"I'm beginning to seriously doubt that, Kira."

At the end of the seventh day, Matsumoto walked into the Ninth Division barracks and strolled all the at the back to the lieutenant's quarters. Shuhei already knew by the grim expression on her face what she was going to say. "I'm sorry, Hisagi."

He sat heavily in his office chair and buried his face in his hands. "I have to tell him now, Matsumoto. Tomorrow I'm going to have to tell him."

Quietly, she said "Yumichika says the human authorities have found out. Through some quick thinking, he managed to get Unohana-taicho there. She talked them out of investigating it somehow. They think Misao-chan was involved with someone called 'Yakuza' now, though."

"Unohana-taicho knows now?" Shuhei demanded, and then groaned as the last part of the sentence transferred to his overworked brain. "They told them Misao was in the Yazuka?"

Matsumoto shrugged. "Yumichika kind of panicked, I think," she admitted. "But Unohana-taicho promised to keep it quiet. Kira's there on standby in case someone starts snooping. And Ichigo told us that no one asks questions anymore when you say 'Yazuka'."

Shuhei smacked a palm to his forehead. "Yes, because…oh, never mind! Thank you. Thank all of you for doing this for me. I know it's been a long three weeks for everyone."

Matsumoto shrugged again. "I'm pretty sure you'd do the same thing for us. I just hope your niece is okay, wherever she is."

The morning after this, Rose woke at eight-thirty like he usually did, made coffee, showered, dressed, drank a cup of coffee, and read the newspaper.

Well…kind of.

Rose woke up a eight-thirty, made coffee, showered, dressed, poured himself a cup, and spat coffee all over pages four and five of the newspaper. The story there caused him to gasp and choke on the hot caffeinated beverage.

"'S matter, Rose?" Hiyori said through the piece of toast crammed in her big mouth. "Burn yer tongue?"

Still gasping for air, Rose pointed wordlessly at the brown, saturated page. Hiyori silently scanned the printed letting and choked, spraying crumbs over the dripping paper. She coughed and swallowed the wayward lump of toast caught in her throat. Hoarsely, she wheezed out "Ya can't show Shinji that, Rose!"

The blond man frowned at his smaller compatriot. "Hiyori, it's not like we can shield him from it forever. He's going to know eventually. Would you rather let him find out now from us or have him find out later and then get mad at us because we knew and didn't say anything to him – in fact, we deliberately kept him from knowing." He snorted and brought the coffee to his lips. "Besides, if I throw this copy away, he'll just go down to Urahara's and get another one."

"Let him get another one!" Hiyori said. Rose raised his eyebrows at the hint of pleading panic inside the normally strong and tough Hiyori's voice. "Just let him get another one, Rose! He probably won't go until tonight so he won't know for another twelve hours. Give him twelve more hours of ignorance!"

After a moment, Rose nodded and tipped his hand over the damp paper lying guiltily on the table, pouring the other half of his coffee on the pages. He smiled sadly at the steadily soaking material. "Oops," he said softly. "My hand slipped…"

"Ick," Shinji scowled down at the patterned green dress shirt he'd put on this morning. "The damn thing puked on me!"

Kensei grunted in disgusted agreement and they both headed to the only two showers at the back of the warehouse. Hollow-hunting had lately gotten not only monotonous, but revolting as well. Kensei finished in ten minutes, but Shinji didn't come out until more than half an hour later with a towel wrapped around his waist and a toothbrush in his mouth. "Where the paper?" he asked through a mouthful of toothpaste. Lisa wrinkled her nose as he spat into the sink. Not a day went by that he didn't picture Misao at that sink and imagine his hands on her body again. "Lisa, where's the newspaper?"

She shrugged, deftly pouring sugar in her ice tea. "In the trash. Rose spilled coffee all over it this morning. You'll have to go to Kisuke for another one."

He swore tiredly. "Shit. Ya couldn'ta told me that before I got outta my clothes?"

"What can I say?" She snickered softly. "You're such a stud – I couldn't resist getting you naked."

At her pointed glance, he looked down at his current state. His flat golden hair was dripping rivulets of water down his bare chest and onto the linoleum. Only the towels wrapped around his non-existent male hips prevented him from being completely naked. Shinji snorted. "Like ya haven't seen each an' every one of us naked. Pervert," he added fondly. He turned away, shaking his hair like a dog all over the kitchen. Lisa grimaced. "I'm goin' ta visit Kisuke."

"Yep," she acknowledge, smacking him on the ass. "Bring back skittles for Mashiro."

He responded with a roll of the eyes. "Don't do that in public. People will realize how weird ya are."

She smirked. "Yeah, and you don't complain at all, so what does that make you?"

"Um…a victim?" Without any modesty at all, he switched the towel from his waist to wiping down his dripping blond hair.

She stared downwards for a moment and then snorted. "Riiiight…"

As Shinji left Urahara Shoten, he held the bag of skittles between his teeth and flipped through the paper. The warehouse didn't have a television, so the only entertainment they got was by the written word. "Hmm…serial killer investigation in Kyoto…kidnapping and murder in Yakuza territory…murder-suicide in Okinawa. Gosh, how cheerful the news is today…"

The Kyoto Killer was arrested at the end of the police's eight-month investigation into it. A man in Okinawa killed his wife and four children and then shot himself in a local park. There was also an article in the paper on crimes caused by the Yakuza in the last year. The list was long and tragic, detailing every man, woman, and child who had been killed, injured, or missing because of the infamous gang. The story ended with the most recent crimes. Two people – a young college student and local mechanic – were killed in the past three days and in the past three months, a businessman and his wife and another college student were kidnapped.

The skittles crashed to the ground and were crunched underfoot. The paper fluttered to the sidewalk, black and white pictures showing pictures of each of the five newest victims of Yakuza violence. Each had a small paragraph below their picture with a few details about their circumstances.

On the near right was a black and white newsprint photo of a young woman with sharp facial features, a deeply uninterested expression, and black hair neatly cut to fall smoothly around her head.

_Shiori Misao, age 20, had not been seen at her university for the past three and a half weeks. Two nights ago, she was killed in her apartment on University Avenue. Investigators believe her death was related to the local Yakuza. Miss Shiori was only six weeks away from completing her Master's Degree in Mathematics and she worked at a local bookstore. She is survived by her older brother, Shiori Shokanmaru._


	28. Just A Simple Friend

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: Okay, I promise I'm trying to updates these as fast as I possibly can because you guys have been so awesome. I cracked the triple digit barrier! Thanks, guys!

Just A Simple Friend

He was running, but he couldn't feel his legs anymore. He was breathing, but he couldn't seem to feel the air moving in and out of his lungs. His entire body was numb. He feared that if he rubbed his eyes or scratched his arm, he would simply shatter into a million pieces. The slightest amount of pressure against the gigai holding his soul would make him disintegrate into dust.

Shinji looked up, realizing that he'd run all the way to the Shiori house. He could see a light shining from the back of the house out from the front window. When he turned the knob, the door swung open for him.

He walked in and she was there, curled up on the couch. She was...sleeping.

"Thank god!" he cried, holding her smaller form against his chest. She was not shot. Not stabbed. She was sleeping. He stroked her now short hair and breathed in the beautiful scent of lotuses that always came from her skin. "I thought ya were dead, koibito!"

A shadow covered her face as Hisagi stepped into the light coming from the kitchen. "Hirako-san," Shuhei said softly "She isn't asleep. She's...she's gone."

His very soul seemed to freeze up and he held her more tightly, willing her to just breath in for him with all his heart. But she never did. He lowered his face to that long, pretty neck where no pulse fluttered and no blood rushed anymore. "She's warm," he whispered hoarsely, hugging her to his chest where he was so very cold. If she was dead, why was he the cold one? "How can she be dead if she's so warm?"

"I had Kira put a Kido spell of preservation over her body so that she...she wouldn't...decay." Shuhei sounded like he had to force himself to say the words. "She's warm because the spell keeps her an hour deceased the way I found her. But she's actually been dead for the past three weeks, Hirako-san."

"How did she die?" he asked, putting her gently back on the couch. She still looked like she was sleeping, no matter what he told him. The only things that seemed out of place were how usually thin and pale she looked.

"According to Unohana-taicho, she contracted a highly contagious disease called Tuberculosis. To my understanding, this caused her to cough and spit blood. It would have been like having the flu. That's why she looks as though she's only sleeping – technically, she is. Unohana-taicho says she fell asleep...and choked herself to death. She never woke up again and she probably never realized what was happening to her. I doubt she was in much pain."

"So where is she?" Shinji asked, looking up at the dark-haired lieutenant. "Ya didn't perform the soul burial yet, didja?"

Shuhei looked at the carpet. "No, to my knowledge, no one has performed a konso on Misao."

"Not ta yer knowledge?" Shinji repeated, a horribly sick feeling beginning to develop inside the bottom of his stomach. "Ya mean ya don't know where her spirit went?"

"We've spent everyday since her death searching for her," he admitted. "That's why I've spent three weeks hiding her death. I wanted her to be here before revealing it to anyone. I think..."

"Ya think?" Shinji prompted with steel in his voice.

"There's nowhere in the human world that would hold her I haven't already checked. And her reiatsu is not anywhere inside Soul Society." Shuhei sighed heavily. "We may have to begin accepting the fact that Misao...has met the same unfortunate fate as her parents."

"Misao wouldn't have been eaten by a Hollow!" Shinji snarled.

"Then what other explanation do you have?" Shuhei asked in a beaten down, defeated kind of voice. "Because there are really only two other explanations – either she got turned into a Hollow herself or...or she...she went to..."

Shinji's honey-brown eyes widened. "NO. Never." A vision of her smiling face on the day she left flashed before his vision. A smile of a thousands stars which took his heart for its sky. "Misao didn't...Misao doesn't belong in Hell!"

Momo sat beside Shuhei as they both stared at his niece as the ceiling fixtures above the coffin lit up her pale face, now frozen into an expression of tranquil slumber for all eternity. The mortician had convinced Shoka not to cremate her, saying that she had a perfectly lovely face and there was no reason she couldn't have an open casket. She did look strangely beautiful – more than when she was alive. Even if that scarlet lipstick they'd put on her looked kind of obscene. "Why didn't you tell me, Shuhei-san?" she asked him softly, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief she brought especially for the purpose. "I would've helped you look for her."

"You're too close to Shoka," he replied. Somehow, he felt like this might be a form of payback. Shuhei hadn't been able to attend his little brother's funeral, and now he was the pallbearer at his daughter's. "And I didn't want to do this to him. I didn't just want to hand him a body."

"You told Kira." It didn't sound like an accusation. It was only a simple statement.

"I was in the middle of a nervous breakdown when I told Kira," he said wryly. "And he liked Misao, too, you know. She was his little apprentice after she went to college. At least in Kido. The more I tried to hide it, the more people I had to tell. Kira finally made me realize that I couldn't just cover it up anymore. I mean...she's dead. She's dead and if only I'd been there an hour earlier, she...she'd still be here, Momo."

Shuhei bent over, running a hand through his hair. His eyes were distinctly red-rimmed. Momo covered his shoulder with one of her soft, petite hands. "Unohana-taicho made it sound like she was really sick, Shuhei. I don't think there was anything you could have done for her," she said sympathetically. "Misao just pushed her human body too hard – even when she was ill."

At the back of the funeral home, Shinji sits and silently contemplates the ceiling with burning eyes. One arm is wrapped around Mashiro's shoulders as the green-haired girl sobs into his best shirt uncontrollably. "She's not dead, Mashiro. She's out there somewhere."

Mashiro shook her neon head. "Shinji..."

"No," he insisted softly. "I know she's out there. I saw her."

"You saw...?"

"Yeah. I saw her last week, but I thought it was a hallucination," he admitted. "She disappeared almost as soon as I realized who she was. She had Shojohime with her. She ain't dead, Mashiro. And she didn't turn inta no Hollow, either."

That was his mission now. Every night, from sunset to sunrise, he looked for the missing spirit of Misao. He would mask his reiatsu and shunpo his way through Karakura Town, furiously searching for any sign of that woman.

As fate would have it, he found her in the one place he never expected to find her: his own front door.

He spent that entire night wandering the rooftops for a chance at a sight of her, but got no reward for his efforts. As usual, he had to return to the warehouse near sunrise disappointed and exhausted from overexerting his flash-steps.

She was on the roof of the building across the street, sitting at the edge with Shojohime draped across her lap. Considering her level four years ago, her reiatsu levels were rather astonishing. A voice he'd heard only once before in song echoed across the business district.

"_-Take me to your heart._

_For it's there that I belong_

_and will never part._

_Love me tender_

_Love me true._

_All my dreams fulfill._

_For my darling, I love you_

_and I always will._

_Love me tender._

_Love me dear._

_Tell me you are mine._

_I'll be yours through all the years,_

_till the end of time._

_Love me tender._

_Love me true._

_All my dreams fulfill._

_For my darling, I love you_

_and I always will."_

_Why doesn't she just kill me?_, he thought, dazed. _It would be so much faster._ He recalled her telling him that 'Love Me Tender' was the first song she ever remembered hearing.

At the end of her little recital she stood, drew her sword, and stabbed the Hollow coming up behind her through the eye. All her movements were beautifully smooth and graceful.

He opened his mouth to call her name, but found that someone else got there first. "Misao."

She crouched at the edge of the roof and looked down at the person who called her by name. She held Shojohime's sealed form loosely in her sword hand as she leaned over the gutters. Her low, bored voice said "I'm here."

A man in an open, white cutoff jacket stood below her. His hair was bright blue and he seemed irritatingly familiar. "So what – ya fucking serenade them into coming to ya? Who the fuck do ya think ya are?" he called in an irritated growl. "Do you know how fucking gay that would make me look, Misao?"

She snorted. "It's not the singing that's important," she retorted. "You just have to lull them into believing you're an easy target, Grimmjow."

_Grimmjow?_ Shinji clenched his fist. He remembered that name. He also remembered the man who went with that name, too. He'd tried to turn Ichigo and Rukia into cat food. Shinji gave him a nice taste of his Cero for his trouble. Cocky fucker didn't do too well after that. _Misao is with the last living Espada?_

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez scoffed in disgust, a large scowl planted firmly on his face. "Fuck you. I like my way better."

Misao jumped down from the roof. He didn't see any Hollow hole on her. Why would she associate with an Arrancar? Even more concerning – why would an Arrancar associate with her? "Your way has no finesse and destroys half of the surrounding buildings," Misao said snidely. "We're done here. Let's go."

_Wait, WHAT? Go? _Grimmjow waved his hand and a Garganta opened in place of the door at the warehouse across the street. _She would really go to Hueco Mundo?_

Shinji's teeth bared in a silent snarl of rage as Grimmjow grabbed her hand and they ran at the gate in Hueco Mundo together. The gate closed behind them with a gentle 'pop'.

_Have you found someone else to touch you the way I did, Misao?_

They charged onto the white sand of Hueco Mundo and Misao yanked her hand out of Grimmjow's iron grip. "You know I hate it when you do that," she snapped, massaging her shoulder. "You're going to pull my arm out of the socket and then where will we be?"

He shrugged. "It's the only way I can be sure you're not doing to fall off into fucking space or something. Just heal it with that thingy ya do. Ya know, that thing ya did on me.

She punched him in the shoulder, though she knew it wasn't going to hurt him much. "How many times do I have to tell you – it only works on someone who's wearing white!" Misao spat. She tugged at the hem of her yellow tank top and elbowed the heavy brown backpack weighing her shoulders down. "Does it look like I have any white anywhere on my body, Grimmjow?"

Grimmjow responded with a fanged grin. "Well, fuck, I don't know about what's underneath."

"And I can assure you, you never will." Unfortunately for him, Grimmjow's smile did nothing for her (other than reminding her what kind of whack jobs she was friends with these days). Then again, she suspected that things like love and lust weren't emotions Arrancar experienced. She also had a theory that insanity was not optional but her only other basis for comparison was...

"Mimi! MIMI!"

She cringed.

...Nel.

Misao landed squarely on her ass as something crashed right on top of her. She blinked up into Nel's huge hazel eyes. "Hi Mimi!" she yelled in her ear. "Pick me up, Mimi!"

From her position facing the blackened sky of Hueco Mundo, Misao sighed heavily and sat up, shifting Nel so that she could carry her on her hip. "Where's Ashido?" she asked the Arrancar child. "We're too close to Nuevos Noches to be safe here."

They glanced at the foreboding white ruins of Los Noches. Inside the white-domed shell, roman pillars hundreds of stories high thrust into the air. The sky was overcast with rust-red clouds and there, lightning cracked and flashed across the sky. A shroud of dark mist shielded their eyes from seeing the buildings at ground level. This was 'Nuevos Noches'. "Ashi went scoutin' near the Forest, Mimi."

In Hueco Mundo, one did not walk the sands without a sword drawn. Of course, things had gotten easier since she met Grimmjow, but it was not possible to be too careful. He led them off into the dunes with his katana out. Behind him, Misao had Nel in her left hand and Shojohime in her right as Nel gave them precise directions to Ashido. One of the Arrancar child's special talents was finding anyone she pleased. Since Ashido's reiatsu was not rising or falling sharply, he probably wasn't in any danger but it was never a great idea to be by one's self here.

That was how she convinced him to come with her in the first place. She persuaded him to trust her even though she was accompanied by a pair of Hollows. Nel she found wandering the dunes, sobbing. Hollow or not, Misao felt bad for the girl. Nel cried for hours in her lap (what an uncomfortable experience _that_ had been!), saying that her brothers had been killed by The Prince. And Grimmjow...was just Grimmjow. There was really no story there. The former Sexta Espada was bleeding out in the Forest when Misao found him. She said he could either come with her and live or be eaten by an Adjuchas. Needless to say, he chose life. She half-expected that 'Virgin's Cleansing' would kill him, but apparently Shojohime thought he was somewhat savable. Honestly, she had a queer kind of respect for the adult Arrancar. He didn't do bullshit – he was always completely honest. Brutally so. Actually, pretty much everything Grimmjow did was brutal in some way. That was why Nel wouldn't go with him.

"Hey, Misao," Grimmjow grunted gruffly. "That's the fifth time I've found ya top of that building. What are ya looking for over there?"

She was quiet for a moment, adjusting her grip on Nel (she actually dropped her once before when an Adjuchas startled her, so she tried to make sure she had a decent hold on her now). "A friend of mine lived near there when I...when I was younger." She stared out into the darkened forest they walked along. She didn't have any idea if he knew what the concept of 'younger' and 'older' was. Sometimes she had to explain words he didn't understand. She felt her throat closing and coughed. "His um..._family_ still lives there, so I think he...he must have...passed away."

Grimmjow probably wouldn't know what 'passed away' meant either but she honestly didn't think she could bring herself to say 'died' in relation to Shinji. She couldn't feel his reiatsu anywhere in Karakura or the area surrounding the town. She wondered how he...how he'd been...how he passed away.

"Mimi's sad." Nel said sympathetically, pulling on her short hair. "Even though Mimi doesn't look sad, Nel can tell she is."

Misao's arm tightened around her little sidekick. "I'm not sad," she said, putting extra effort into making her voice sound bland and dispassionate. "I'm...disappointed. I couldn't find any Hollows with a connection to The Prince tonight. And Karakura is the most Hollow infested town I know of."

Grimmjow huffed out a rough laugh. "Because it's the most spirit-rich place in the whole fucking world."

"Perhaps his power is waning." Ashido Kano walked out of the treeline and examined them with raised eyebrows. As always, his face was solemn and he moved with grace and a keen sense of the landscape. Misao liked Ashido. He had a deep well of sadness inside him, but it was a calm, steady kind of sorrow that never wavered. In a strange way, it was a kind of anchor for her. "But I fear that's being a little too optimistic. You were unable to find more Hollows with a connection to The Prince?"

"No, none at all," Misao sighed. "I'll have to try again tomorrow. Meanwhile, I brought dinner."

Grimmjow gave his feral grin and said "Did ya bring more ramen? Man, I fucking love that shit!"

Misao glared. "No, actually I bought it from the all-night Chinese restaurant on Main Street again. You're lucky Urahara-san agreed to loan me that gigai or we'd be in real trouble. As it is, I've run out of most of my human money. My uncle gave me a little money from Soul Society that I still have – not that it will do us much good."

"Won't someone from the living world recognize you if you keep going back, Misao?" Ashido asked as Misao opened the backpack and brought out a brown paper bag.

"I wasn't very well known in my hometown," she admitted, taking out the white cartons from the Chinese restaurant. "Even so, Yoruichi-san dyed the gigai's hair for me and gave me a set of fake glasses to wear. Instead of the brunette freak Shiori, they see a blond nameless nerd. Large Szechuan pork extra spicy with hot and sour soup? Agh, this must be yours, Grimmjow – nobody else here would eat this garbage."

"This is not garbage," Grimmjow contradicted through a mouthful of food. "This is food sent by the fucking heavens."

"This is food that's going to tear out your intestinal lining," Misao said, rolling her eyes. "Large sweet and sour chicken with white rice – nope, that's mine. Here you go Ashido: large beef and broccoli with shrimp fried rice."

After calmly chewing and swallowing, Ashido stated blandly "Feed that spicy pork to Nelliel and I will tear the six right off your back."

Grimmjow slurped his hot and sour soup. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Ashido. I know she'll be up all fucking night crying her eyes out if she tries this shit." Said Arrancar girl never got her own food – Nel always went between the three of them, casually eating off of who's ever plate she wanted most. Even as he finished saying this, he passed the bowl over to her and let her get down several swallows before taking it back and flicking her on the forehead. "Don't get your fucking spit in it, stupid!"

She only giggled and went to Ashido, giving him huge puppy dog eyes – which was completely unnecessary, because she knew he was going to end up giving her food anyway. He only sighed and shoved a nicely sized portion of beef, broccoli, and rice her way. Nel devoured it eagerly (knowing that if she went back, he would always give her more) and went begging to Misao, who simply handed her a separate container already filled with the amount of sweet and sour chicken she would give her. The girl already knew that trying to get more than that one container from the newly dead woman was utterly futile.

"We need a plan to get inside Nuevos Noches," Grimmjow said in between bites. "We can't stay out here in no man's land for the next hundred fucking years while The Prince drags all three worlds down to his control. I'm all for world domination, but this dude is a fucking nut."

Ashido nodded thoughtfully. "From what I can tell, he wants to enslave every being he encounters."

"We can't do it from the ground," Misao said, shaking her head. "I don't know why, exactly, but I feel something horrible down deep inside myself when I think about that mist. I don't know what's inside that, but I don't think we should go that way."

He turned her way, deep brown eyes always so thoughtful inside his serious face. "When do you intend to tell your loved ones where you are?"

She looked down at Nel, who was eating from the sweet and sour container she gave her with reckless abandon. "I don't know if I want to tell them," she admitted. "I'm afraid they would try to come after me here and this isn't their fight. Urahara told me he's going to spill the beans on me if I don't tell anyway so it won't matter what I do."

Grimmjow snorted indelicately. He was quite possibly the least subtle person she knew. Another reason she respected him: he never mixed words. "Face it, Misao – this ain't your fucking fight, either." He gulped down more of the hot and sour soup and wiped his mouth messily. "You're here through a fucking accident."

She lifted her chin in a manner that let him know she would not be moved – even with a fucking Cero. "If he gets the chance, The Prince will kill Shinigami I care about, too. Izuru-sensei, Uncle Shuhei, my brother Shoka, Rangiku-san, Hinamori-san...That makes this my fight. You might not be on board with this whole 'nakama' shit Grimmjow, but I am. And I'm not just going to leave the three of you here to die. Got that, you stubborn ass?"

"Bossy bitch," said Grimmjow, but he was grinning. "Fuck yeah, I got that. Ya practically shouted it in my fucking ear."

Ashido looked like he was valiantly resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes at them. "Getting back on topic – we still need to find a way into Nuevos Noches. I think we might need to start enlisting the help of those loved ones, Misao. Grimmjow wasn't able to clear the mist. I barely made a dent in it. I think it would take the power of several Shinigami to get through there. And then there's the matter of trying to bring down The Prince himself..."

Misao breathed in deeply. "Okay. You're right. But first, we need to come up with a plan to lure The Court out towards the Forest, where we have the advantage. If we can eliminate the Prince's Court before we go to him, he'll have lost most of his power. After all, they're the ones who actually enforce his ruling. Once we come up with a plan to destroy The Court, I can call in some people I know to help us cut them down."

"If we start slaughtering Forest Guardians, they can't fail to notice. Whether or not they will come is a completely different matter. I fear we will end up facing Vasto Lorde class enemies here, Misao." Ashido sighed. "At least Aizen was powerful in his own right. This man is practically an Academy Graduate for all his plots and plans. The Court is his only real source of power."

"Ya need someone to start killing things?" Grimmjow's grin made his turquoise eyes glow. "I'm your fucking man, baby. Tell me when and where."


	29. Just A Strange Love

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: I'm thinking my next project will be a Naruto fic – either an OC or an AU SasuHina – or a Fallout-verse story. Then again, I might just start cranking out a bunch of oneshots again". What do you guys think? Ah, maybe I should just take a break after I finish this. This is my longest story ever – I can't believe it's over 60,000 words already! Thanks for all the love!

Just A Strange Love

Now that he knew where he could find her, Shinji decided to wait for her in the shadows of the building across from the warehouse. The Garganta opened in the same place as it closed last night and that cock-sucking piece of shit _was still holding Misao's hand_. He was about to flip his lid but luckily, Misao pulled away first and said "An hour before sunrise, I'll be right here. And for god's sake, Grimmjow, don't destroy anything."

The Arrancar rolled his eyes and used Sonido to flash away.

He followed behind Misao as she ran to the back of the warehouse she used. She pulled the heavy brown bag off her shoulders and yanked herself into the oddly formed gigai lying on the floor amid the abandoned boxes and defective shipments. It looked like Misao, but it was wearing a pair of square-rimmed glasses and had white-blond hair. _She did it on purpose,_ he realized. _She disguised the gigai on purpose so no one could easily identify her. _

After settling herself into the gigai, she put the heavy backpack on again and paced the city relentlessly in a strange patrol pattern. She finally stopped and held out her hands as a Hollow appeared in front of her. "Hado #73!" she growled. "Soren Sokatsui – Twin Blue Fire, Crash Down!"

_No incantation? _His eyes widened as he felt the power of her spell building up for the release. _Holy fuck!_

The Hollow didn't even have time to roar at her – the blue spell fire consumed and destroyed it before it could make a sound. "Damn," he heard her mutter. "That wasn't a Servant, either."

She kept running, but couldn't seem to find what it was that she was looking for. She was left wandering around near a residential district when suddenly she made a turn down a street that was very familiar to him. "Urahara, you son of bitch," she snapped as she walked into the man's store. "This gigai can barely function anymore."

Shinji's palms were bleeding his nails bit into them so hard. _Kisuke...Kisuke, you knew she was alive? You knew she was alive and you never said anything? You bastard, you went to her funeral!_

Indeed, Urahara didn't look at all surprised at her sudden appearance. He waved his fan languidly and said "I already warned you that was and older one. Perhaps you've been a little rough on that poor thing," he suggested, taking her wrist. "You've managed to abuse this body more in three weeks than Rukia-san did in three years. What have you been doing to it, Shiori-kun?"

"Hollow-hunting," she said shortly.

"Are you going to tell your brother and your uncle of your whereabouts or shall I bring the subject up with them?" Urahara's voice was softer, but also sounded vaguely threatening – which was an extremely unusual occurrence.

"I'll tell tomorrow," she said quietly, rubbing the scar on her neck that was tingling strangely just at that moment.

"Unless I've mistaken that killing intent emanating from my front step, I have concluded that one of 'them' is already here, Shiori-kun."

She whirled abruptly, expecting to see Shuhei or Shoka and her mouth opened in shock. Such was her surprise that her connection to the gigai weakened and the fake body dropped to the floor like a sack of rice, leaving the true Misao staring at him intently. "Shinji?"

His heart beat faster and his mouth was suddenly very dry. "Long time no see, koibito."

"You...I thought you were dead," she said, gaping stupidly. "Your reiatsu had vanished from the town so I assumed you...that you were..."

The way he was staring at her made the words die on her lips. He stepped into the room slowly, the yellow light washing over his black slacks and then up to the white and green dress shirt before bouncing off of his honey-colored eyes. It gave the effect of them being set on fire and she suddenly feared for her newly liberated soul. She'd never seen him look like that and she sincerely hoped that he wasn't really aiming the power of that supernova-like wrath at her. She was actually surprised that the sheer force of that gaze wasn't causing the flesh to melt off her bones and boiling the organs her body as she stood there.

"You were dead, koibito." There was a note in his voice that made her insides quiver. He was using the serious voice, which was always either the 'I'm-going-to-fuck-you-until-you-can't-walk-and-you-can't-do-anything-but-whimper' voice or the 'I'm-going-to-crush-every-bone-in-your-body-and-beat-you-until-you-can't-scream-anymore' voice. She honestly wasn't sure if she should be more aroused than she'd ever been in her life or more frightened than she'd ever been in her life. "You died and disappeared and no one had any idea where you went. Your uncle was searching for you for three weeks before he finally had to tell your brother what happened to you. We thought you'd been eaten by a Hollow like your mother and father."

Yoruichi entered and stood behind Urahara, the furious reiatsu that pounded through Shinji alerting her to possible danger. She was about to intervene when Kisuke tapped her shoulder with a single finger and shook his head, putting another finger to his lips to prevent her from saying anything to distract either of them from this fight.

She was trying to cower against the shelves so that he wouldn't be able to touch any part of her body – she was afraid that if he did, he manage to set her on fire somehow. Her survival instinct was now telling her that being afraid was probably the wisest course of action right now. The amount of rage she could feel within her made her brave, but she knew that wasn't her rage. "I ended up in Hueco Mundo by accident," she said calmly. Just because she was cowering did not mean she wanted it to _look_ like she was cowering. "A Hollow dragged me inside the Garganta and I was stuck there for awhile...I met some people there. There's something wrong in Hueco Mundo."

"Why didn't you tell anyone where you went?"

She wanted to flinch at the tone he used, but she wasn't going to look that pathetic. She was already practically cowering, after all. This was more fury than she'd ever experienced before in her entire life – even when Hollow Shoka raged out of control. "There's really big trouble in Hueco Mundo happening right now and I didn't want anyone to come after me. I want to help the people there, because this enemy doesn't care who it kills..."

Her voice died off again as that bright brown-eyed stare intensified. He reiatsu was spilling out through his body like a river that had broken it's dams and run over the locks. His bloodied hands grabbed her by the upper arms and Shinji shook Misao hard, bruising her arms. He was so angry she actually found herself surprised that he hadn't tried to kill her yet. And she was honestly so terrified of him just then that if he did, she didn't think she would be able to defend herself in time. "What the hell is inside that fucking head of yours?" he demanded. "What do think this is, Misao?"

She simply blinked at him in that infuriating manner, clearly not comprehending the meaning of what he was trying to silently convey to her.

His eyes flashed black and bright golden yellow for a moment.

"Ya really don't have a clue, do ya? I could almost despise ya fer doin' this ta me," he snarled, squeezing her upper arms until she cried out, thinking he was about to break both of them at once. Shinji's eyes widened as she winced and he realized he was on the verge of causing Misao serious injuries. He abruptly let go of her, pushing her back into the shelves, and immediately turned his head away from her. He knew what the look on her face would say, and he couldn't bear to see it there: disgust, fear, horror. They were all just different forms of the same outcome to him – rejection. He turned and walked away, storming out of the store and into the slowly lightening darkness, leaving her hunched against the shelves and staring at him in unacknowledged, pained confusion.

He had excellent control over his Hollow, but there was no denying that no matter how he controlled it, it would always be there, waiting. Even now the dark pharaoh whispered on and on inside his mind.

_**Break her like a twig – you know we want to. She would look so pretty covered in blood. And I bet her eyes wouldn't change even after she died. C'mon – all you have to do is reach out and SNAP! There goes the little cunt's head! Look at how small she is. It would be so easy. Reach out, fool. You know you want to hear her scream for us. Do it. Do it. DO IT!**_

He cringed against the assault of grotesquely vivid images suddenly filling his mind and he clamped down on them hard. _Sakanade, shut up our unwelcome little house guest NOW!_

Misao sank slowly to the floor, staring at him with a wildly bewildered and slightly hurt expression marring the normally impassive, dispassionate facade she kept over her features. "What..." she whispered. "What just went on here? What...what does he _want_ from me?"

Urahara held out a hand to pull her up. "Based on my humble opinion, I would theorize that Shinji wants you to...Ugh.

He grunted as Yoruichi elbowed him fast and hard in the ribs; he doubled over in pain and she smoothly took the conversational lead away from him, pulling Misao up from the floor at the same time. "You really aren't that good with human interactions, are you, kiddo?" Yoruichi sighed. "He didn't say the words because he probably thought it would scare you away, but I think that this was Shinji's way of trying to make you understand that he's in love with you, Misao. He's probably frustrated because you – hey! Where are you running to?"

"Arigato, Yoruichi-san! I have to go now!" Misao yelled back, using the trained muscles of her career in track and long-distance to propel her down the streets as fast as she could, even mixing in the flash-steps her uncle trained her in. She could still detect traces of his reiatsu in the air so he hadn't gone very far but when she tried to follow his signatures, she only seemed to find dead ends. She sat down on a bench and rested her chin in her hands, sighing "He doesn't want me to find him."

Even now the hot burn of his anger was scorching the inside the bottom of her stomach. No wonder he was so angry with her! Just how long had Shinji been trying to get her to see what he was trying so hard to tell her? A bright red flush appeared over her cheeks as she thought about everything he'd ever done for her. That day at the train station when she left...that strange way Sakanade and Shojohime behaved toward each other...the things he'd done to her in the warehouse kitchen when no one else was around...the way he held her in his bed the night she defeated Hollow Ichigo...his consistently flirtatious manner and the way he insistently pursued her and only her...how he always seemed to understand what she was thinking or feeling, even if she didn't...

She looked down at her hands and smiled. "I really am some kind of idiot, aren't I?"

Over and over again, he tried to show her what he felt and even when he was ignored or flat out rejected, he'd try again. When she started to respond, he'd give her bigger and bigger hint, always trying to coax her into comprehending what he was trying to convey to her. And she completely missed it.

She tilted her chin forward. If he was the brave one this whole time, it was time for her to get her courage together.

"This is for you," Love muttered as soon as he walked out of the bedroom, handing him a folded slip of paper. "She said she had to go back but she was coming this afternoon to tell her brother and uncle so they would stop freaking out."

"I see." Maybe it would be an apology or even a permanent farewell, the way his luck was going. There were only two words on the page in her neat, anal-retentive handwriting.

'Me Too'

The air rushed out of his lungs in one breath.

Misao lay in her bed, in her old house, very much a different person than she was in her old life. For one thing, there was an injured Arrancar sleeping on her sofa in the living room and an injured Shinigami on a mattress on the floor. For Nel she pulled out one of the empty dresser drawers and padded it with blankets and pillows. While she was occupied in the human world this afternoon, the three of them had been attacked by several servants of The Prince in Hueco Mundo – they were ambushed and sustained serious injuries. Grimmjow opened a Garganta and the three of them fled to seek protection with her here. Now Nel wouldn't leave her side – the girl was terrified and completely attached to her. It would probably take a week to wean her away from her presence, but in a way, she didn't do mind. She could handle Nel's chatter better than Grimmjow, even if she wasn't as calm as either him or Ashido about her drooling or sneezing on her surroundings. Misao was most definitely both a neat-freak and a disciplinarian. It was hard to admit it, but she was pretty fond of Nel.

That was what she was doing when the small sound of a rock tapping her window made her sit up and walk over to the window, glancing at Nel to make sure the little girl was still asleep. She was so asleep, she was snoring, actually. She could recognize the reiatsu signature standing outside – if she hadn't, she would have snatched Shojohime from bed beside her.

His breathing grew faster as he realized she was wearing nothing but panties and a large t-shirt that hung off one shoulder.

Shinji and Misao stared at each other intensely through the layer of heated, crystal sand.

He leaned forward, hot breath steaming up the glass with a fine film. How could he write backwards so well?

'Tell you a secret?'

Holding her breath with the strange hopeful excitement she felt from him, she nodded.

He smiled at her, a little flame flickering inside his warm brown eyes that made her oh so excited.

'I'd love to kiss you'

His heart was about to beat right out of his chest as she gave him that wonderful, beatific smile – just before she yanked the window's sash up. She leaned out, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, and kissed him right on the lips with that smile still in place. His mouth was soft and warm and metallic, and she was perfectly happy to stay there kissing him, even if she had to lean her entire upper body out of the window to do it.

He pulled her lower half out and held her up, gripping the backs of her knees so she wouldn't have to stand on her own. She reached behind her and shut the window again without even breaking eye contact with him. They were both smiling like idiots still. "So," he said, casually, leaning her backside against the siding. "How have ya been?"

And she did something that completely surprised him.

She laughed.

The sound was full and throaty and for some inexplicable reason, it made him hard as a fucking rock. She ran her fingers through his hair. "You're a brilliant conversationalist," she murmured, tugging on the golden strands and kissing the side of his neck. "However, I'm thinking that I want you for your body just now. "

He groaned and kneaded one of her breasts through the cotton fabric of the ratty shirt. "I'm _so_ okay with that." he said with a shaky laugh, sliding the shirt up so he could run his hands all over her smooth back. He nibbled around the old scar of their first kiss and heard her breathless moans. "I'm glad I can do this without hating myself now..."

She gasped and groaned loudly as his mouth engulfed one fabric-draped nipple. Her trembling hands lifted the shirt away from her bare skin, shamelessly offering herself to him despite the fact that they were outside and her brother was only two windows down and it was only nine-thirty at night in summer. "H-hate yourself, Shinji? Why?" He descended on her breasts and she cradled his head against her feverish skin, pleading. "Yes, yes, Shinji..."

"Ya were fifteen an' the way I was touchin' ya...it felt so right, but I hated myself fer doin' it, too. Yer body was still at the halfway point between child an' adult but I was treatin' ya like an adult, even when I knew I shouldn't." He licked her breasts, she stomach, her sternum, her collarbone, lapping the small beads of sweat he found on her skin. "Ya taste so good..."

She shuddered, arching herself against him. She wanted to give him everything she had and she wanted everything he could give her, too. "I'm...I'm still...I died as a virgin, Shinji."

He response was a fierce, harsh kiss that left her clinging to him weakly. "Ya have no idea how happy that makes me," he admitted. "I know it shouldn't, but when I thought about another man takin' ya..."

She slowly pulled open the buttons of his shirt, starting at the bottom. "I thought about trying...but even thinking about it disgusted me. There are few people I can stand touching me and you were always the only one I could stand touching me sexually." She exhaled out in a rush as his bare chest was revealed to her for the first time. Her voice came out hoarsely "You...you have nipple piercings."

They matched the one in his tongue, a pair of metal rings that hung from the dusky pebbles.

"Touch them," he said huskily. She looked up. His eyes were hot and smoky and good god, she loved the way he was staring at her. "I know ya want to. Touch them."

She did want to. She was fascinated. Her long nails came up and grazed his chest, hooking through the piercings and tugging. He hissed, his breath coming heavy in her ear. "Does it hurt?" she whispered, her thumb rubbing one of his nipples. "When I pull them, does it hurt you?"

"No," he breathed, cupping her own breasts. "No, it feels so good, Misao. Ya would look real cute with a set of these, too."

"I'll think about it." She wasn't willing to admit the thought aroused her quite yet.

Nails trailed down his abs and her hand came between their bodies, fondling him through the slacks. "Oh, I think I like this older Misao. Ya've gotten bold, koibito." He held her face in his hands and kissed her slowly, lips coaxing her like a seductive dance. "But we're gonna take this kinda slow."

She whimpered and he laughed. "I know – it breaks my heart, too," he whispered, placing kisses down her throat. "But if I'm the only man ya wanna be with, I gotta teach ya everything I know. And I'm not gonna do it in yer backyard. Go ta bed," he said, smacking her ass as she climbed back in through the bedroom window. "Tomorrow, yer gonna get lesson number one – hands."


	30. Inside the Mirror

Paradox of Nihilism

A/N: No, I'm not dead T_T

I just suck...

Thanks for not giving up on me, guys!

Lesson One: Inside The Mirror

Morning was...interesting. She woke and slipped into a pair of shorts before walking out into the kitchen where Shoka was draining the last swallow out of a coffee cup.

Shoka couldn't stay. He kissed her forehead and muttered an apology about needing to go to work. "It isn't a problem," she murmured, hugging him loosely. "I'll see you when you get back."

He smiled weakly and walked out the door, waving a little. "Try not to...well, just don't be disappearing on me any time soon, okay?"

"I promise," she said firmly.

After her brother left, it took exactly two and a half minutes for Shinji to walk through the door. She raised her eyebrows as he walked in the door grinning. "You're up early," she observed, raising an eyebrow and leaning back against the counter top. She folded her arms across her chest. "What's the occasion?"

"I'm hungry," he said, walking closer with a wicked smile. He nibbled the corner of her mouth, standing with her legs between both of his. She laughed very quietly and kissed, slow and soft. He sighed happily, giving her mouth one last stroke of the tongue. "Mm. Tastes like mint."

"Toothpaste," she murmured, looking a little flushed. "You taste like blood and coffee."

"Blood?" he said, looking slightly alarmed. "I shouldn't taste like blood..."

"The tongue ring," she said softly, raking her nails over his nipples through his shirt.

"Ahhhhh..." She grinned, because for a moment he seemed to lose the power of speech, before he rubbed the object in question against the roof of his mouth. "I guess I do taste like blood. I don't notice it anymore. Does that bother ya?"

"I like it," she admitted, rubbing against him provocatively. She breathed over his lips and watched the fascinating way his eyes hazed over . She knew he would be able feel the way her nipples were hardening underneath her shirt and smiled innocently.

He growled, kissing and licking her neck, his hands finding her breasts and teasing her until she was panting into his chest. "We really have a thing fer kitchens, don't we?" he muttered. "I can't wait ta tie ya ta a bed somewhere. I'm gonna spend hours-"

"-Are we interrupting something?" A voice inquired dryly.

They turned in unison.

Ashido and Grimmjow stood in the doorway that led into the living room. Ashido looked slightly perturbed, having witnessed his female friend being felt up, and Grimmjow had a huge grin plastered over his face.

Misao flushed, because just then she realized that her hands were still on Shinji's ass. "Out," she commanded shortly. "I'll tell you when breakfast is ready."

Ashido turned on his heel and made a swift exit. Whatever they intended to do, he did not want to be there to witness anything more. Grimmjow, however, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorway. "No, no," he said, still grinning wolfishly. "I wanna know how much ya charge for this little show you're putting on. I'd be willing to pay a pretty high fucking price to watch."

As Shinji opened his mouth to remind the blue-haired idiot that he could always feed him a Cero to shut him up, Misao gave his wrist a painfully hard squeeze. She grabbed a knife from the counter and threw it at Grimmjow's head. The knife landed point-first, an inch away from the Arrancar's cheek. "Get out," she threatened, grabbing another cleaver from the counter. "So help me, Grimmjow, I will put another hole in your chest."

Grimmjow bared his teeth at her in a mocking smile. "Does your brother know ya and Blondie over here have been playing Sid and Nancy behind his fucking back?"

"No." Misao said stonily. "And you're not going to tell him because if you do, I will make life very, very hard for you, Grimmjow."

"And how are ya gonna fucking do that, whore?"

Shinji was ready to tear his throat out, but Misao's low voice came soft and filled with menace, uttering only a single word.

"Bankai."

They engaged in a ferocious staring match for a few moments before Ashido's voice floated in through the living room. "Leave her alone, Grimmjow. You know pushing Misao's buttons will only lead you to vomiting blood and wheezing in the dirt. We've all heard that song before." Only the last sentence carried a hint of any threat, but it made every one in the room uneasy. Ashido rarely bothered to raise his hackles but it wasn't something any one of them wanted to do if it could be avoided. "The tune is becoming old."

Twitching his shoulders angrily, the Arrancar stalked out of the room, growling obscenities under his breath.

Misao rubbed her forehead and sighed. "Sorry. Grimmjow's impulsive and he has a bad temper, so he says things he doesn't really mean and then he puts his foot in his mouth."

"You're defending him?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow at you.

She shrugged. "Why not? One day, I'll probably have to defend you to him."

"Ya an' me ain't any of his business, Misao. Ya have no reason to defend yer decisions ta that guy!" Shinji snarled. _If she has any feelings for him, I think I might truly slip into Hollowfrenzy._

"You see it that way, but he doesn't," she said dryly. "You think that I am myself and I don't need to be anything else. You'll willing to accept whatever I say because you fully expect me to surprise you. But that's not how Grimmjow's head works. In his mind, I made myself one of his people and he thinks that since I'm one of his people, that means I'll always act in a manner that's familiar to him. But now I've just behaved in a way he didn't expect. Since I'm one of his people, he thinks that means I'm required to explain myself to him. But only I can explain – he'll ignore whatever you say and do and think, because to him, you're simply a being whose thoughts, words, and actions are controlled by me. I think that must be what he assumes love is."

Shinji shook his head. "That's fucked up. How do you know this?"

"I think my Heart to Heart has matured a little," she admitted. "If I know a person well, sometimes I can pick up on whatever thoughts lead in to the emotions they're feeling."

"But ya still can't separate them from yerself, can ya?" he asked softly.

She shook her head. "I don't think I ever will. That's just a part of Heart to Heart I can't escape. As far as I can tell, my father never escaped it, either. None of my family could. I know intellectually that certain things can't belong to me, but that doesn't change how I feel."

It was dark before he got her alone.

On the couch.

In the semi-darkness.

"N-Nel...and my-my brother...?" Misao gasped, struggling to focus on the syllables she wanted to express and not the way he felt sitting behind her, pressing against her back...And...oh god, she could see their reflections in her mother's looking-glass beside the television. The moon streamed perfectly through the window and she was staring at her own reflection with vague surprise.

"Are not comin' back tahnight," Shinji whispered. In the mirror, he was a shadowy figure behind her, his hands the only parts of him that ever reached out into the moonlight. "No one is. Kisuke has specific instructions to keep them there – even if he has ta drug them ta do it."

"You don't think Shoka knows what you're doing?" Shouldn't she feel a bit alarmed by that? Or, more importantly, shouldn't she feel alarmed about the fact that he was slipping her skirt and panties off right now? Yet, she remained curiously unconcerned.

"As far as I'm concerned, every moment I'm with ya now is through his permission...because he isn't here stoppin' me." The mirror, Shinji's brown eyes were staring into the eyes of her reflection through the darkness. "He knows. He's known since ya were fifteen, Misao. Yer aniki would hafta ta be a fool not ta know what I what from ya."

She watched him lick his lips, the tongue piercing flashing dully in the mirror, as she spoke with a husky voice. "What do you want from me?"

"Only everything," he whispered, tilting her chin so that her gaze would be directed back to their display in the mirror. There was sound of fabric tearing as the front of her blouse was ripped open. It didn't even occur to her to be angry or annoyed as buttons dropped to the floor. "Is that too much ta ask?"

The monotonous black-and-white of night vision made her breasts appear nearly white by the light of the moon. Was her chest really heaving that hard? The woman in the mirror breathed like she was in the middle of an important marathon, her breasts trembling with each gasp. Shinji's eyes were fixed to the sight as if hypnotized. She leaned back against his chest. "Not from you."

He pressed his cheek to hers and they stared at each other through the mirror. They were both around average height, and fairly slender, with straight hair and almond-shaped eyes. Their hair and eyes were very different colors, but they didn't make nearly as sharp a contrast as say, Ichigo and Rukia, or Chad and his girlfriend – the pixie-like and talkative Yuuna. Still, Misao had never been more conscious of how different they were than that moment. _Because_, she realized, _I am a woman, and he is a man._

It was a rather obvious fact and one that she was not logically unaware of – Shinji had proudly and openly desired the cravings of his gender to her many times. But that was when she was fifteen. When she was fifteen, Shinji was still a man, but Misao was not a woman. She was a girl.

But not now. As much as he would like to beat himself up for touching an underage girl, Shinji had never looked at her with this kind of black desire inside his eyes before. Even the first time he kissed her and gave her the scar, it was caused by a kind of unbearable frustration rather than the naked need she saw on him now.

She didn't know why, but somehow the sight of Shinji's hands cupping her breasts inside the mirror was the most fascinating thing. Still, she made herself break away from the strangely alluring image and turned her face into his neck. Softly scraping the flesh with her teeth, she covered the hand on her left breast and held it gently, letting the slightly calloused palm rasp over her nipple and then lower. She felt his body tense, their excitement and anticipation joining inside of her as she led him over the smooth curve of her stomach and between her thighs. His fingers brushed over the soft black curls and she shuddered as one finger slowly entered her body.

He nuzzled Misao's face while his hand gently stroked her folds. "Have you ever touched yourself here, love?" he murmured, fondling her. "Have you ever gotten yourself off?"

"No." Her hand was tight around his wrist, making it quite clear that any attempts to move his hand away would certainly be met with resistance. She mewled and tightened her grip on his wrist as he began rubbing her clitoris in nice, small, slow circles. "_Nooooo_." Shinji smiled silently into her dark hair and continued his slow, even strokes. His other arm had to hold her down as she began thrashing against him and suddenly her verbal emissions took a sharp turn. "_Shinji_ – yes, yes, yes, _YES_!"

It took nearly as long for her to gain control of herself as that first time in the kitchen. She was panting and her muscles were still shaking. He kissed his way across her cheek. "I like your new haircut, by the way." A feather-light kiss was placed on her lips. "I think it makes you look like an elven princess."

She wanted to feel very light and satisfied, but there was a there was still a ball of unsatisfied arousal sitting the the bottom of her stomach, a sense of fullness that was different than before. She laid back against Shinji, half-dazed for a while until the thought occurred, crashing the lull in her mind, and Misao sat up abruptly. "Oh my god."

He sat a little straighter. "What, what's the matter?"

She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. The shadows of her hair as it feel around her face made it even harder to discern her facial expression than usual. "Shinji, you're _hard_."

"So?" he said, a bit defensively, visibly resisting the urge to adjust himself in his trousers. "Ya were thrashin' an' moanin' on top of me..."

"I can feel it."

"Well, duh." He snorted. "If ya were any closer, I'd be, y'know...in ya."

"No, Shinji." He felt with a sudden prickle the large intensity of her attention and focus through the darkness. "_I can feel it._"

She couldn't possibly mean what he thought she meant. "You can...?"

Misao turned to face him and leaned into him, speaking with a strangely arousing infliction he'd never heard before. "I've never been able to feel another person's arousal before – lust, but not true arousal." She reached out, slowly touching the muscles of his chest, massaging, caressing, teasing. "Maybe it's because I was never this close to anyone but you."

He was hanging onto her hips hard, because it felt like he wasn't in control of the situation anymore and he needed to hang on to something or he was going to get lost. He was hoarse with that loss of control. "What does it feel like?"

She hissed as she felt him becoming more and more turned on, her nails carving deep welts that made him hiss too. "You're so unsatisfied," she breathed against his collarbone, her small hand cupping the bulge in his pants. "Did I always leave you like this?"

"Always," he swallowed heavily, slightly alarmed both by the trembling in his hands and how into this he was getting. His hips jerked up into hers involuntarily, rubbing himself against her bare sex. He smirked a little as her breath caught. "Are ya gonna satisfy me, darlin'?"

She plucked the nipple rings, first very gently and then hard enough to make him shout in agonized pleasure. He was still panting when she kissed one. She was quite aware that she was sitting on his erection at this point. "Show..." she whispered, unzipping him "...me..." he was grinding his teeth audibly as her hand wrapped around him "...how."

For a moment he couldn't answer her, because he was gathering his control together. Then he sat forward and murmured "Kneel behind me, baby."

Although she was slightly puzzled by this request, she bowed to his expertise in this area and sat behind, her knees on either side of his hips. He reached for her hand and guide her the way she had guided him, fisting her smaller hand around his cock. He groaned and she trembled: both at the way he felt and the way she could feel his pleasure intensify as a direct result of her actions. He licked his dry lips and croaked "Just move yer hand up an' down, darlin'. Please, Misao."

"You're so warm," she sighed into his neck. "And I can feel your heart beat when I touch you here." Every stroke, every beat of their hearts escalated the unbearable pressure inside of him, and therefore, inside of her. The terrible ache inside was becoming painful, until it was her own arousal, and she had the feeling it wasn't going to go away when Shinji came, either. Biting her lip, Misao tentatively touched her own slick wetness, giving a breathless sigh as she realized it was almost as nice as when Shinji did it to her. She tried to remember the way his fingers touched her, the way he teased the flesh, and groaned when she succeeded. She moved the hand squeezing his cock and the fingers in her body at the same pace and could feel the beautifully intense bursts the bubbled up inside herself. If she let herself lean into Shinji a little, the friction of her movements would brush her nipples over his back too.

Shinji felt like he had gone to a place of utter madness that he wasn't sure if he would ever return from. He watched her face in the mirror as those seemingly delicate hands with their hard-earned callouses stroked him firmly and became hypnotized. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, her head resting on his shoulder, looking down at where she squeezed him. Every once in a while, her breasts rubbed his back, sending rockets of fire down his spine, and it seemed that her other hand was moving behind his back._ Could she be...? No. Would Misao do that?_ Even he was surprised by the growl in his voice. "Are you touching yourself right now, Misao?"

Her face grew hot against his shoulder and she turned into his neck, as if he had just accused her of something terrible. "I have to," She was panting so quietly he almost didn't notice. "It won't go away if I don't."

"Agh!" She squeezed particularly hard, making his hips jerk unexpectedly. He swore loudly and arched, the tendons in his arms and neck standing out as he forced himself to back away from cumming before he wanted to. Her eyes were rivoted to his image inside the mirror, her lips parted as she watched him and truthfully, she thought he was kind of beautiful. He backed up against her, pressing back to chest. "Keep going," he commanded in a strangely low, dominating tone. She was reminded of how dark his eyes could get when he was like this. "Do it just like this."

With disbelief made slightly bland by her perpetual habit, she said "You want me to masturbate against your back?"

He reached behind him and grabbed her by the thighs, making red marks into white flesh as he held her against him. Her sensitive clit rubbed the smooth, hard muscles and she cried out, leaning onto him as she went limp. She had driven him to the edges. _"Keep going Misao_!"

Misao obeyed, pleasuring them both at the same time, flushing brilliantly as she rubbed against the slick, warm muscles of Shinji's back. He continued to hold her by the thighs, securely keeping her from falling over or unbalancing them, arching into her more and more when both of her hands went faster and faster. The true desire she felt inside of him just now bewildered her slightly even as she was embarrassed of herself for doing this. _He likes that I'm using him for this,_ she realized, dazed with pleasure as she was. _He wants to feel me touching myself, too._

Quiet shouts permeated low moans and panting and several times – although she truly couldn't begin to guess how he did it – Shinji forced himself to stop from cumming, until Misao's short hair was plastered to her head and she was placing sharp, tiny bites all over his back. "Please," she whispered, placing her face to the curve of his sweat-soaked shoulder. Tears of strain ran down her face. "Please make it stop. I don't think I can cum until you do. It hurts, Shinji."

He grunted and curved his larger hand over hers again, and her fingers inside her body responded automatically, moving at the same pace. It took three and a half strokes for both of them. Shinji gave a great shudder and lowly groaned her name. Misao heaved a sobbing breath and hugged him, using him as a support to keep herself upright. She should be feeling disgusting for staying this way – warm semen ran down one hand, and fluid down the other and both her thighs, and they were both extremely sweaty.

She did not come down at all, because she fell asleep less sixty seconds later. It took Shinji almost an hour to work up the willpower to move at all and then almost another hour getting up to fill the bathtub across from her room and carrying her to it.


End file.
